I wanted to feel him again. I felt him again. Like I was in his lap, driving. Or huddled behind him, warm but freezing in the night air on the motorcycle. Or wrapped tightly in his arms, hidden in a closet, a world within a world. I wished he was close. I wished he was watching me. Always watching me. I tucked my hair behind my ear, turning my head toward the direction where I would imagine he was, and reveled in the feeling of his eyes being on me.
