11

Nathaniel Gwyneth falls asleep. After so much struggle and standing for hours in front of Kingsley’s room, she lost the physical battle and slumped over on one of the chairs in the waiting area. I told her that she could go home, but she vehemently shook her head, pulled her knees to her chest, and closed her eyes. Which is why she’s about to fall forward. I place a finger on her forehead and push her back so she doesn’t hit the ground. It’s light contact, only a damn finger, and yet it feels as if my skin has caught fire and the flames are now extending to the rest of my body. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have let her hug me. Or I should’ve pushed her away sooner. Because now, even a mere touch brings back memories of her body pressed up against my chest. Her slender body that I can’t stop thinking about how small it is compared to mine. I clench my fist and close my eyes to chase away the haze. It doesn’t work. Because even though she’s out of view, her scent clings to me as stubbornly