A wandering around the kitchen talking about the stresses and strains she’s going through. My habit is no longer to peer at her over my toast. I walk over to her, listening to what she’s saying. When it feels right I put my hands on her, stroking and kissing her as she talks. Soon she is leaning against the worktop, I am standing in front of her with my hands on her hips. She rests her head on my chest and I nuzzle into her hair.
After a while she seems to gather strength. She speaks now more lightly. As she talks now she rests her hand palm flat on my chest.
I can’t remember the last time she touched me like that. Such a simple gesture, so easy yet so intimate. Why intimate I don’t know. The palm completely flat on the other person’s chest. Trusting perhaps.
