I press my mouth up against hers and she kisses me back, melts into me like a candle. Wrap my arms around her, she fits how she always has. There’s this thing about her in my arms that makes everyone else feel like they shouldn’t be there. They shouldn’t be there. I know that. She moves with my body — it’s the magnet thing at its peak function. Touching Parks is like touching no one else. It’s like coming home. Even before when I used to touch her all the time, my hands on her body would brush away the heaviest days. I think that’s what we’re supposed to do for each other.
