Touch.

It’s an obsession, or worse sometimes. Just something I have to go through. Like knowing the plan of attack before you go out for chores on a day with a really long to do list and not much time. Or an itinerary for a trip. You stick to it, you’re okay, you get everything done with no trouble. It’s just like that.

Touch. … Touch.

It doesn’t take me long any more, I have it down to a science, practically an art. It’s about familiarity, you know? I like to be really aware of my surroundings. Just know everything’s place.

Touch.

You’re so patient.

Touch.

I like that about you.

Touch.

I know it’s a little crazy. I mean, it’s only the stuff I can see so it’s not so bad. Kitchens would just be a nightmare any time I walked into one, god forbid. My own I can keep everything to a minimum so it’s not bad at all but can you imagine me walking into like a commercial kitchen? Holy shit I’d be there all day and not do anything else. But, like, most rooms aren’t bad at all, especially if I don’t go into people’s house.

Touch.

Okay, that’s everything.

Except, of course, you.

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