His eyes are on the stitch job he did last night. My leg is still swollen. He places a gentle hand on my knee and warmth explodes across my body. My cheeks burn and I swallow hard. He’s the first person who’s touched me in … I have no idea how long. The bug ruined hugging and all touching in general. This feels so … not weird but … wrong. And also right. ‘Are you OK?’ he asks. Absolutely not. ‘Yeah.’
