He was sitting, looking out the window, seemingly deep in thought.
One hand rested on his lap, the other on the table. I bent down, softly kissed his neck, and placed my hand atop his. He stretched his fingers, causing mine to fall in between his. He closed his hand into a relaxed fist, locking our fingers together. He moved his hand to his chest, over his heart, and placed his free hand over mine. He’d encased our entwined fingers, engulfed my hand. “This,” he said tapping his fist and my fingers within it against his chest, “Is where you are.”
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