This is what she imagines

This is what she imagines it must be like to be held by another person:

It must be like sleeping. But sleeping held up by someone else whose body becomes your bed, who becomes the tree that you fall into and the earth that holds you still. It must be like swimming; moving effortlessly in a muffled world where nothing matters but the space that your arms and legs can stretch into. It must be like dancing; like spinning and twisting and knowing you will never fall at the turn. Being held by another human being must be like running without having to let go, it must be like rain but only a softer, sweeter sort that soaks you but still keeps you warm.
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