physical touch.

I miss physical touch, the brain says. No segue. No leading thought. It’s like it’s been wanting to say it and just couldn’t hold it in anymore. And not physical touch in the sense of someone holding my hand or hugging me, but the comfortable incidentals. The legs bumping together. Two arms leaning on each other. Their hand brushing against your waist. The kind of contact that comes when you’re close enough and comfortable enough with someone, that you are near enough to accidentally touch.
And it’s something that can be felt, in both actuality and absence. When they’re standing close enough that you can feel it. And you will them to make contact, even if it’s in the slightest form. It’s almost a test. Will they brush past me “accidentally on purpose”. Maybe they are so unaware of themselves around me that they just didn’t realise how close we’d gotten. Or will they maintain the polite and respectable distance. With space so dense you can feel it.
The amount of times I’ve willed someone to make contact. To put his hand on my knee in familiarity, or on the small of my back as a gesture of togetherness. I sometimes think about what might have happened if any of them ever did. And it’s times like this I wonder, if we ever reach a point where our skin doesn’t burn at the touch of someone else. If one day it’s so natural and often that you don’t even feel it anymore.