The train is stopped between stations - somebody pulled the emergency brake and it takes awhile to reset it since apparently the whole thing has to be done manually - so here we are, waiting to move.
Katie holds my hand, her fingers tracing my index finger knuckle, ruffling the sparse hair and then smoothing it down again. This is the shape of my body, I think to myself, this boundary of skin in which my consciousness currently resides.
The guy across from us stomps his foot in frustration at the delay, but when I look up, he looks completely bored and still, as if he never moved at all.
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