“We undress quickly.
His skin on mine feels hot and raw and urgent. His touch goes from languid to fire. I feel it around us, all around us. I want to scream. I want to tear us apart.
We make love in that bed. That bed that Bella bought. This union that Bella built. He traces his fingers over my shoulders and down my breasts. He kisses my neck, the hollow of my collarbone. His body on top of mine feels heavy and real. He exhales out sharply into my hair, says my name. We’re going to break apart too quickly. I never want this to end.
And then it’s over, and when it is, when he collapses on top of me — kissing, caressing, shuddering — I feel clarity, like it has clobbered me in the back of my head. I see it in the stars. Everywhere. All above us.”
- In Five Years, Rebecca Serle
I have realized for years now that we interact more than we realize with things like the TV, the computer, flowers, the meals we eat, the clothes we wear, the articles that we read, sitting on furniture…
We interact so much.
However, many of us remain alone.
Whenever we engage our five senses with something, we are interacting. When we feel something, we are engaged in an interaction.
Again, millions are alone despite this.
Maybe in five years, I will meet someone whose hand I want to hold again and again, warm and strong in mine.
What will happen five years from now?
Will that hand exist for me to hold on tight five years from now?