“Well, well,” she murmurs as I back away.She makes a rectangle with her index fingers and thumbs and looks at my skin through it.“You’re right,” she says. “The boy’s a living work of art.”

“Closing her right hand into a fist, she folded her thumb over her index finger. Then she drew her arm back. "When you absolutely, positively have to knock a hole through something..." The Warrior grunted as she drove her fist into the glass dome with tremendous force. "...you cannot beat a Jeet Kune Do punch.”

“I pu my finger to her lips. "You have to hush a minute so that I can tell you something.""What?" she says, bites my finger.I look at her. "I love you."She gets quiet, the kind of quiet that sinks into her, softens her. "Well that works out," she finally says, her voice deeper and breathless, her eyes moist, "because I love you too." She turns, leans against my arm, and settles into me.”

“I note how calm she looks and how focused she is. She is well-practiced in the art of losing herself. I can't say the same of myself.”

“The answer is three, I said as I held up three fingers—my middle through my pinky—and I formed a loop with my index finger and my thumb, which also shapes the universal sign for “asshole.” A verbal response, backed up by its unspoken reflection, with a hidden hand gesture buried in the sub context.”

“She tried to open the bottle, but the top slipped through her fingers without moving.He took the bottle from her hand and opened it using only his thumb and index finger. Alice thought there was nothing special in the gesture, that she could have done it herself, like anyone else, if only her hands hadn't been so sweaty. And yet she found it strangely fascinating, like a small heroic feat performed specially for her.”