Skin on skin, gentle touch, soft pressure, kindness in movement.
You hold my hand, lightly, your fingers wrapped around mine. They are not linked, because the moment being fleeting and the angle a little awkward, there’s only so much any hand could do with the given circumstances. Locking fingers requires an appropriate position, and coordination from both sides, and the right moment.
Sometimes it’s easier to just hold a hand, let them rest in each other. It’s like acknowledging presence without demanding the spotlight.
But still, you’re here, right now.
I cross the distance with a glance at you. You’re looking straight at me, your eyes holding me the same way your hand does. You don’t pin me down, but you’re holding me steady.
You ask me something, and even though I know that everyone else can hear every word that we say, it feels like they reach no one else. We’ve created a sphere, the sensation of your touch, the way you look at me, and the words you say are just for me.
I answer with a smile, and you smile at me in return.
It’s just you and me right now, in the light of the fairy lights draped across the walls around us.
You squeeze my hand before I withdraw it; you hold my gaze until I turn away; I can still see your smile just before I hear your last words to me.
We’re back with everyone else. Our bubble full of fairy lights is gone.
But even as I say goodbye, get my coat, put on my shoes, walk down the stairs and the street, get to my house and eventually rest in my bed, part of it stays with me.
The feeling of that moment, when our touch and looks and words came together; when it all created a space that would transcend the limitations imposed on the rest of time; when a moment came to life in a way that I will forever carry it with me and never-endingly hold it in my heart.
And as I fall asleep, I’m lying in my bed, and I’m holding your hand and looking at you and listening to you and smiling at you.