Sweetest Coma Again

“Frankie,” he whispers, out of breath. Keeping me pinned to the car, his hands find my face again. “Frankie … Frankie … Frankie …” He showers my face with kisses and gently rubs his face against mine. It’s affectionate, intimate, and a little heartbreaking because I feel him clinging to this moment as much as I am. My hands cover his when his forehead comes to rest against mine. “I’m afraid one day soon you won’t kiss me good night.” He lifts his head, a sad expression stealing his handsome face while he nods gently. “Me too.”
― Jewel E. Ann, Because of Her

“I nodded as he grabbed a paper towel, then wiped my lips, then my cheeks, my forehead, and my neck.”
― Annella Savo, Born to Make You Smile

“We did our secret hand gesture before we drove off. A ridiculously silly ritual he’d introduced in my first month working for him. The gesture consisted of three fist bumps, followed by interlocking and grinding our knuckles together, where he said G, and I said force.”
― Annella Savo, Born to Make You Smile

“How foolish to think you can tell your children about yourself before they're at least fifty. To ask to be seen by them as a person and not as a function. To say : I am your history, you begin from me, listen to me, it could be useful to you.”
― Elena Ferrante, The Lost Daughter