We're sitting in a wine bar and he starts telling me about the mural club he was in back in Boston... his story is interesting, but I somehow manage to space out to think about how he held my hand for the first time on the way to the bar.
Holding hands is sweet -- such a simple gesture to be close to someone, while simultaneously feeling like a grand statement about your relationship to the world. He is not super tall, and his arms are a natural length for his height, but the combination of our heights, plus my 4" heels, (as sweet as it was) resulted in slightly awkward hand holding. I didn't care, but I did notice and start thinking about it in the middle of his mural story...I tuned back in as he was saying something like, "...three stories high...", at which point I sincerely asked (a question that my brain would have never processed as strange until after it had been said aloud).
"Do you have really long arms?"
He gave me a squinty half smile and a, "Har har... yeah, I have really long arms... No, we used scaffolding!"
...
:)
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