Maybe, in introducing me to them, he is trying to fix me because he knows his human hands cannot. He knows, right now, his human hands are not fit to ...old me, but moreover, he knows that neither of us is willing to admit that. He knows that nobody wants to look that deep because, on the surface, we have found momentary rest. That evening, we go home together and start a fire in the small woodstove. I make a simple dinner and by the time it is ready, he is asleep on the couch, snoring gently. I. I don't know. I'm not sure I feel right, thinking about her now. I have to be so damn careful, because of who she is. She is my friend. I have to be so damn careful, because of what she said. She wants a friend. Not a penis or a pair of hands. I'm not even sure what I should be calling everything - what will offend her. I can't fuck her - that's too graphic. And making love? She doesn't love me. So what should I call it? Should I just use medical terms? I wonder if she would blush if I called. More

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