“I must confess it was the slice of skin made visible by the deficit between the bottom of your shirt and the top of your pants that first caught my eye. Then I noticed just how round your belly was. It was as if the gods scooped it from a tub of tummy then molded in their hands to create a perfect sphere of flesh. It was so round and so out there that I really, really, wanted to run up to you and touch it. I wanted to slap it between my hands, to be more precise. I resisted, though my urge was strong. I wonder if this same feeling, the virtual tingling of my hands urging me, “touch it, touch it,” is what the straight-haired strangers who plunged uninvited hands into my hair were feeling….”