Signing Sensations
“It’s supposed to be better soon,” I say bashfully.
He’s kneeling in front of me, one hand on my knee, the other running along my inner thigh. This is not appropriate public behavior, normally anyhow. His hand glides up to my hip now and I’m trying not to breath too hard.
He finishes, hopes I feel better, smiles down at me in the wheelchair. The pen he holds is one of those easy-grip, extra-fine roller deals.
Tonight I’ll remember the intimate moments he spent signing my cast, and maybe tomorrow I’ll slip it back on and search for others.
