My hand on my lover's large belly... I feel my unborn son moving, under my palm. I press in gently. He presses back from inside... That was an elbow, I think! I press back again, he presses back again.
We play this game a little longer, until her rhythmic breathing hypnotizes me, and I begin drifting into a hazy sleep, my hand resting against that membrane separating us, feeling his movements, fingertips watching him through her skin...
My hand on the rear car window... I press against it with my palm. Small fingers against the glass, press back from inside the car, trying to touch mine. He giggles and laughs, he doesn't know this is the last he will see me for a long time...
I tap the glass with my fingertips, rolling them in a pattern, watching him giggle at me, pounding back on the glass with his palm. Voices scream inside, telling me I can't let this happen. They are wrong. I can't stop this.
We play this game a little longer, until the last moment when she starts the car, and it starts to drift away, too fast, too fast, as I stand, waving at him, and he watches through the glass...