If I knew I were to be the last to touch someone, I’d hug them.
First and foremost. Regardless. No question.
A touch can mean so much. A hug is such an expressive act
between two people and say so much. Strength and power. Tenderness and caring.
Protection and support.
Aside from the hug, I’d sit close enough to touch even a small
patch of skin on our elbows or knees at the very least. I want to be close
enough to feel the love between us. Or the animosity. Or the awkwardness. Right
then, what we feel for one another – or don’t – goes out the window.
I’d trace lines on their face. Touch their lips. Scratch their
back or rub their shoulders. Run my fingers through their hair or over their
head. I may even make animal feet run up and down their arm and have them guess
what animal it was.
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