30 August 2004


He holds my hand a lot. It's like a horror film without the horror. I wake up, his hand's in mine and I wonder how it got there. It creeps sideways under the sheets and squeezes my paw masonically. He puts his hands through my hair so often I've been using the stickiest hairspray the nurses can get, just to slow him down. Not that I mind him doing it. I just don't want to go with messy hair. He kisses me, doesn't cheat by asking if he can. He knows the time is now. It's time to kiss me.