Our hands brushed as we tucked our daughter into bed between us. He pulled away quickly as if burned, despite a lack of spark. Exasperated sigh; me. Our bodies have touched, remember? They've been intertwined. Look at the child between us. How do you think those get here? These were only thoughts. We have been stuck fast in a No Speaking zone for weeks. No Touching Zone, too. Obviously. Down with sixty second hugs, We laughed at the couple who did not know how. 'Always kiss me goodnight' Pretty, plastic platitude. I understand not wanting to touch. I need those walls, too. Bites always forthcoming. Please, do, just stay over there In your corner Pouting. Jimmy Wayne, baby. Stay gone. The touch was accidental This is all so typical. First it's loud bravado and then a falling back, victimized by yourself, the blame is shifted to me. He makes a list of all the things I am not; tells me to just leave. I am not: a good mother a godly person genuine I think of ...