a place where every light is green

I told you, although I think you were asleep for the first part. You know I love you, I said. I know you know. But I didn’t know, not at first. These sorts of things just sneak up on me. But the thing is, and you probably don’t know this because, you know, most people don’t, but I’ve always had this thing about touching people, like since I was young. I’m bad at it, it makes me sort of nervous, unless I know the person really really well. Otherwise I don’t like touching. Like ever, at all. I said, to emphasize, since you were curled up behind me and couldn’t see me making my serious face. Like- what’s the word for bear? I asked, growling and making the universal two-hands-raised-with-fingers-clawed symbol for “bear.” Ay-uh, you mumbled, and I could hear your eyes were closed, but you still knew what I meant. Yeah, ayı, I said, um, like a trap? Like a bear trap? That’s what hands feel like to me. And I get this bad feeling, in the pit of my stomach. And your breathing changed, subtly. You don’t like? You asked, your hand sliding down my arm, tentatively touching my fingers, testing my resolve. No no that’s the thing, I replied, the thing is, you’re different.

Mmmmh, you said, and your fingers laced between mine, one oversized fist, the size of two hearts beating together. Good. And honestly, that moment, your rough hand consuming mine, that was all I wanted in the first place.