I put my hand on him. Touching him has always been important to me, it was something I lived for. I never could explain why. Little, nothing touches, my fingers against his shoulder, the outsides of our thighs touching as we squeeled together on the bus. I couldnt explain it, but I needed it. Sometimes I imagined stiching all of our little touches together. How many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love?
The narrator reflects on the deep significance of touch in their relationship. They find a unique comfort and connection in physical contact, whether it’s a gentle hand on a shoulder or thighs brushing together on the bus. These small moments of closeness are essential, fostering a sense of intimacy that transcends words. It’s a profound need that seems instinctual, intertwining their lives through these fleeting yet meaningful touches.
This longing for tactile connection prompts the narrator to ponder the larger concept of love. They consider how each individual touch contributes to a greater tapestry of shared experiences. The imagery of stitching together countless moments emphasizes the idea that love is built on these small interactions. Ultimately, it explores how simple gestures can hold immense emotional weight, reflecting the intricate nature of human relationships and the need for connection.
