Angela is in her room, writing a note. She has decided to give it a last shot with Dalmar. He was rude to her when he left her room earlier that day but she knows that was because she crossed a line in putting her hand on his chest. In truth, she did it because it was what she wanted him to do. If she’d thought she’d be able to get away with it, she would have taken one of his large, soft hands and placed it on the hard bony space beneath her throat, just so she could feel the warmth of it on that space, and so he could feel the bone above her heart. She feels a bit bad about it now, because she knows that although it was alright for her to touch him first, it wouldn’t have been alright the other way around, and she feels the unfairness of that, in this particular situation at least. She wants to do it but, even more, she wants him to want to do it, and to feel able to do it. It’s all very confusing for her, but she knows it’s even more confusing for him.

Not all love is physical love, she knows that. And not all physical love can happen just because two people want to touch each other. Between two bodies, the air is often thick. For some months now, Angela has been wondering what it would be like to lie next to Dalmar in a bed – he is much heavier than her and the weight of him would make a gradient of either of their cheap mattresses, there might be a bit of rolling or sliding involved, but that would be okay if he lay on his back and she could park herself into the space between his torso and his arm. She would be quite happy to do this fully clothed, to not even stroke each other, or kiss. She just wants to know what it would feel like to lie down with him. She wants to experience the space between his arm and his torso, to be enfolded by him. That would be enough.

And so Angela takes her courage in both hands and slips the note under Dalmar’s door. It reads: I hope I didn’t embarrass you or anything but if you want to knock on my door later this evening like in an hour I’ll be back from the shops and we could have some pasta I’ve got. It’s fresh pasta. Vegetarian, just in case. Regards. Angela. She hasn’t added a kiss.

*