Touching

Touching was easy. That’s strange, I guess. I’ve seen how you shy away from contact, how the easy intimacy between strangers–handshakes, hugging, simple kissing on the cheek–fascinates you even as you flee it. Your mother can touch you, but even that is learned, often endured rather than desired. When others try, you hunch and flinch and back away. For me, though, it was simplicity itself. I reached, you reached, and our hands fit together strangely, perfectly. From there it was no distance at all to embraces and walking hand in hand, to your warm solid presence against my side. Continue Reading »

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Juxtaposition

When Geoffrey looks into the mirror he sees awkwardness–angles and curves juxtaposed oddly. Ears like a Grecian amphora, nose like a squashed tomato. Crooked jaw. Sidewise grin. He gets by, he does. Knows he is attractive, in an odd way, or can be–when he’s funny, when he gets to know someone. But… different.
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Jamie/Geoffrey drabbles

Lucky

200 words, G.

Jamie searched through every drawer, laying the contents out in neat stacks before sighing and moving on. When I came in and saw the orderly disaster, I shifted the laundry basket on my hip and cleared my throat. He glanced at me and then back into the drawer he was currently dissecting.

“What are you looking for?”

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