100 Words a Day 370

That hand. His gaze was inexorably drawn to it; so close was it to his own. He was at once pulled to and repulsed by it, that lovely, alien thing. His fingers inched towards it of their own accord even as his heart raced with anxiety at what would happen if he touched it. His eyes darted back and forth between her hand and her face, desperate to see if she had noticed what was going on. Her eyes were on the movie and she appeared oblivious to the titanic, epic struggle going on between his hand and his brain.