“I think about you sometimes.” He said, fiddling with a corner of his shirt.
“In what way?” She asked.
Shrugging, he said “I think about the sparkle in your eye when you’re talking about being a veterinarian. The lines on your forehead that form when you frown. The parenthesis around your mouth. How I wanna look at those things when we’re out on picnics, on the train, across from one another at a swanky restaurant.”
He shyly looked up. She smiled and said, “I think about how comfortable your hands feel interlocked with mine, and how safe your touch is.”