You were much taller than me, much much taller (disclaimer: surpassing my height is barely a feat). I remember lying in bed with you, splayed out like starfish because your air conditioning wasn’t working. Lying side by side, talking about some existential theory and our avaricious human behaviors.
Something or other occurred (jk I’m really sparing you the awkward lying, without touching, pre-physical copulation phase) and I was in your embrace.
this embrace was the sort babies must feel.
The sort of embrace that cocoons you with silky threads of security and strength.
An accommodation here, a squeeze there, and it simply got better.
How can a hug be this invulnerable and full of intimacy?
And at that moment, I never felt happier to be shorter than most people.