Stydia
Well, when I first started to miss you, I tried to picture what you were doing. I'm not masochistic so I imagined you were safe at your desk, fingers drumming away. Might have fixated on your hands for a while—I like the way you touch me. I feel secure and loved when we're walking and your hand's on my back or holding mine. Of course, I like the other ways you touch me, too... But my mind didn't go there until later.