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Once, In The Distance

She likes to watch his hands. As they worked at the keyboard, as he explains himself, as they pumped gas.
She knows he loves to use his hands. Loves to keep them moving. Loves letting them get reckless. He has to be gentle with them all day long. There is magic in the movement. She is in awe of all he can do. She sees everything inside of him, before he even says it.
She can watch his hands, and not hear a sound of his words.
When he touches her, he means to. The way his palm slides flat up the inside of her leg.
The way his fingers feel when they reach to wrap up in her hair...
Then she remembers herself, her own hands, looking down, she watches them hover.
Words. Just words, she was typing.
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