Fort Wayne is the second biggest of Indiana's cities, but in the context of the nation I would say that maybe it is not such a big city at all. When I think of a big city, that's not the first one I think of. Maybe you never even heard of Fort Wayne, I hadn't, and Kate said she was not so sure. At some point, it was clear, you know, that I knew I had to get to the hand, though.
So I told her, I just said it in the middle of something else, I maybe said it a little loudly, William says you got a tiny little hand, on one of your hands. I told her, I hadn't noticed, but William told me, you got a tiny little hand. I think she was a little taken aback, you know, at my frankness, but she appreciated it I think. And she told me she had a problem when she was born, but it was not a disease, and there was no changing it, and it was not going to be contagious (which I wasn't worried about, because how truly ridiculous that would be). I told her that her little hand was a fascination, and she agreed to let me look at it until I got used to it, which was my idea.
I did not want her to feel as her hand was a curiosity, but here was my thought: I want to be accustomed to that hand, that it should never aggrieve me if I saw it unexpectedly, and that, you know about this, if I was talking in conversation and mentioned a hand, I never wanted to turn red and feel guilty because I reminded her that she has a tiny hand. Her little hand should be an open secret between us, and if I give her a knowing wordless look one day and she knows I'm thinking about her hand, she would smile back and me as to say that she knows that I'm thinking about her hand, because it's a little hand for both of us to enjoy. At Christmas I want to put a candy cane in her hand, if it fits there, if the skin isn't solid in there. I will broach this maybe when it's further toward Christmas season.
Those were the things I thought of when I looked at her hand. It was very personal, like I was looking at someone without makeup, or seeing someone in the car with their uncle. I felt close to her little hand. I will admit that I had a reverie, and I thought about all the ways I would adore her hand if she would put it in mine.
Her little hand is so tiny, like a little paw of a baby, with tiny fingers all curled up, smaller than a tennis ball, almost like a golf ball even, it is a little tiny bit more purple than the rest of her skin, and one can almost see the little bones in there. It was a delight. I was truly delighted by her little tiny hand, and I think she appreciated my earnestness. I held her little tiny hand in my hand and squoze it a bit, and she got the biggest smile, a smile like she was really happy about me, and about her little hand.
This isn't about harassment. It's about ethics in cat journalism.
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