by Tari Gwaemir
Sense of smell.
When he rests his head on her shoulder, he can smell the strange fragrances she prefers--the odor of pine nuts and needles, newly baked chocolate fudge, and once even the scent of well-oiled steel--and he must resist the niggling temptation to kiss her collarbone. Instead, he holds his breath, waiting for her to reciprocate the gesture.
When she does, finally, reach up to stroke his hair, he releases it slowly, a long, silent exhale that travels like a feather-light touch along her shoulder. She tenses and must tell her body, so used to constant motion, to keep still.