Richard was still holding his hand out to me. This is a church, and we are having services. I was getting better at thinking when the ardeur rose, but there were moments when thinking was not what I did. His hand in mine felt heavier than it should have, more important than it should have, as if I could feel each whorl of his fingertip like tiny silken lines against my hand.
If I hadn't feared contacting you mind-to-mind, I would have asked your permission first, or warned you. He took my hand, and I knew that nothing he'd whispered in my head had been a lie. Since you gave me the list, have I sent anything your way that was on it? I thought about it for a second, then shook my head. Yeah, sure.
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