“I want to get closer to Ohio today. Ten miles. Maybe fifteen miles. It’s late in the day already, but I might just be able to accomplish it.”
I want to get closer to you. I don’t say this, although I want to. Instead, I share: “Goals are good to have.”
Goal One: To have his palms on my hips and his chest locked to my chest.
Goal Two: To have him kiss me, melting all of Templeton around me, burning it to the ground in flames because of the solar heat that we produce together.
Goal Three: Have him spend the evening with me, occupying my time. Because time is the essence of time, or so the cliché goes.
Goal Four: Have him undress me inside the bedroom upstairs, dropping my clothes to the floor. One piece at a time, touching areas of my frame with his rough fingertips, and have our bodie
