Hugging and Holding in Dementiaville

Romeo is tired, lying in bed when I arrive. He doesn't want to get up, which is his usual custom when I visit. So I pull up a chair and sit beside the bed. He closes his eyes. This may be a short visit.

A few minutes pass slowly, quietly before Romeo reaches for my hand. His skin is so white compared to my own fair skin. He is so very white, so frail. Yet, I see the signs that he will momentarily turn into an alpha male. He'll act confidently. He'll take possession of the situation, he'll claim his woman. He'll love me.

Romeo looks deeply into my eyes, reading me like no other has read me before. And then he pulls me toward him, and I have to move to the bed, to sit beside him. He pulls me downward, toward him, to hold me. We stay in that awkward embrace, me leaning over him, until my back begins to ache. I sit up and rest for a while, then he pulls me down to him again. We hold that embrace all the while he croons and whispers his love to me.

And then he closes his eyes. "I'd like to sleep now," he says.

We kiss, I release his hand, move back to the chair. In a few minutes, he is asleep. I stay for a while, then get up to go home.