The heat from his fingers creeps into my consciousness and I want to pull my hand away. Touch. So long without it that I don’t want it anymore. It’s an invasion, an unwanted intimacy. He needs someone who craves his cuddles and wants nothing more than to wipe away his tears - replace the mother who hid him in the train. After a few seconds more the urge is too strong and I take my fingers back, hiding them in my pocket. His bottom lip trembles and he gestures for it back. I can’t.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by daisy.
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