“Grace reached over and began stroking her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and let her drive me crazy.”

“She reached out and stroked my hair just as she had when I was a child. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me, feeling utterly safe.”

“The urge at that moment to reach across and touch Willow--to link his fingers through hers as she rested her hand on her thigh, or stroke her bright hair back from her temple--was almost overpowering. He crossed his arms over his chest."Yep, definitely time for a coffee break," he said, closing his eyes. "You see right through me.”

“She threaded her fingers through my hair and I nearly whimpered at the feel of them, my eyes rolling to the back of my closed eyes. I clutched her waist tightly, inhaling her breaths as I practically swallowed her beautiful tongue.”

“I reach over and stroke her hair. When I do, a few of the strands fall off in my fingers. I pull my hand back and slowly wrap them around my finger as I walk to my room and pick my purple hair clip up off the floor. I open the clip and place the strands of hair inside and snap it shut. I place the clip under my bedroom pillow and I go back to my mother’s room. I slide into the bed beside her and wrap my arms around her. She finds my hand and we interlock fingers as we talk without saying a single word.”

“She could've looked at the tiny miracles in front of her: my feet, my hands, my fingers, the shape of my shoulders beneath my jacket, my human body, but she only stared at my eyes. The wind whipped again, through the trees, but it had no force, no power over me. The cold bit at my fingers, but they stayed fingers."Grace,"I said, very softly. "Say something.""Sam," She said, and I crushed her to me.”