And when I say I want to run a finger on your chest (right down the middle, leading to the dip of your navel), I am serious. I touch you like that in my dreams. And it's as casual as you draping an arm across my shoulders and hugging me to you. Close. Closer.
Do you remember that time that you backed up against me and stepped on my foot? You said sorry with a laugh. You said you couldn't see me because I was too small. I was. But you could see me.
And I saw you. I still do, after all this time.