"Hands are unbearably beautiful.
They hold on to things. They let things go."
*
I didn't know how long we stayed like that, but when he broke away from me, I realized that I couldn't touch him enough. I always wanted more. It was not normal to want my skin to touch him all the time, and there was nothing else to satisfy my hunger. "Let's go." He extended his hand towards me and waited for me to hold his hand.
When I took his hand and squeezed it, we started walking towards the side of the pond, but something caught my attention: the dead white butterfly on the water. Its wings were huge, not a speck on its white wings, and they gleamed strangely in the moonlight. It was beautiful, but it was dead. There was no longer any life left in its small body floating on the water.
