the sweaty heart-race of waiting for a reply.
I turned off my light, rolled over onto my side, and shut my eyes,
but I couldn’t shake the thought; so I reached over for my phone, clicked it awake, and wrote him.
When you said before that you like my body, what did you mean?
I watched the screen for a few seconds, waiting for the... of his reply to appear,
but it didn’t, so I put the phone back onto the bedside table.
My brain was quiet now that I’d done the thing it wanted me to do, and I was nearly asleep when I heard the phone vibrate.
Him: I mean I like it. Me: What about it?
Him: I like the way your shoulders slope down into your collarbone.
Him: And I like your legs. I like the curve of your calf.
Him: I like your hands. I like your long fingers and the insides of your wrists,
the color of the skin there, the veins underneath it.
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