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She looked down in the silence to avoid his eyes. She slowly led her gaze to his hands awkwardly folded on the table. Shaking. Tapping. They grabbed each other in search for comfort, but vexation stimulated his heartbeat to an electric pace. She continued to stare at the trembling palms. The tips of his fingers wore coarse calluses, ones that used to give her goosebumps as they ran down her arm. Her focused deflected to his sweaty palms which seemed a perfect place to rest her hands. Her eyes followed his palm down to his slender fingers. She imagined them brushing the hair out of her pale face. Her only wish was to grip his hands. Hold them with ease as if they were shared property. She wanted once more to clutch his seemingly stark and rugged grasp only to be baffled each time to feel they were as delicate and gentle as cotton.





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