I SIMPLY WANTED TO GROPE HIS HAND

A decade and more have passed since I yearn so fervently for the touch of someone else. I wanted to reach across the small round metal table, amid the public space, and touch his hand as it shifted through my papers, as he read and concentrated on responding to my question. I wanted to feel the texture of his skin and absorb the solidity of his bones and muscles. I wonder how his fingers would grasp mine. Would his hand feel like a branding iron? Would he touch me back? Would he feel what I feel?