“Ask him if he feels like he might die if he doesn’t get to touch you again.” I frown. “Why would I ask him that?” I whisper. “Because there’s another man who does.” The phone clicks as he hangs up.
“There’s no jolt of electricity when our skin touches, just the sweet, settling warmth I always feel. Like the first bite of pie after waiting for it to cool on the racks next to the oven, tart and delicious. Or clothes fresh out of the dryer in the middle of winter. Steady and sure. A familiar comfort.”
― Lovelight Farms
― Lovelight Farms
Payton’s 2025 Year in Books
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