“smoke rose from my hand as it pressed against the white painted door”

“I looked at her without a word. She held an edge of the beach towel in each hand, pressing the edges against her cheeks. White smoke was rising from the cigarette between her fingers. With no wind to disturb it, the smoke rose straight up, like a miniature smoke signal. She was apparently having trouble deciding whether to cry or to laugh. At least she looked that way to me. She wavered atop the narrow line that divided one possibility from the other, but in the end she fell to neither side. May Kasahara pulled her expression together, put the towel on the ground, and took a drag on her cigarette. The time was nearly five o’clock, but the heat showed no sign of abating.”

“Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,Glimmered the white moonshine.[...]Day after day, day after day,We stuck, nor breath nor motion;As idle as a painted shipUpon a painted ocean.”

“Cade grabbed my hand and pressed it against his chest. "You are right here forever, and no magic tricks or sorcery can pry you from my heart.”

“Hey!” Dawson yelled from the front door. “I think Dee caught the microwave on fire. Again. And I tried popping some popcorn with my hands and it kind of went wrong. Like really, really wrong.”Daemon pressed his forehead against mine and growled. “Dammit.”

“I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.”