5.19.2013

312 of 365

His fingers had grazed her hand, perhaps by accident. Nearly five years later, she could still feel the sensation of his hand connecting with hers. Her bus ride each morning was full of daydreams, the outline of his face still clear in her mind, his name still unknown. At each stop, the bus accepted more passengers than it released. And then she felt them, those same fingers from five years ago, mistakenly grazing her hand again.

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