She asks for your hand the way she asks for a pen: without preamble, primed with expectation. You pass it to her. Hold out your right; she lifts her left. Her gesture polite, laugh spilling from pink lips. The sound presses—the way her palm does. Narrow fingers, nails filed square, painted pastel. Your knuckles are loud, pitted; fingers wider and calloused. Primary coloured plasters from paper cuts and punches. Ballpoint ink bleeding into your wrist. On your left thumb: a gold-plated ring. Initialled, rusting. Patient. You wait—for her to ask, for her to notice. The pressure of it pools in your palm—offered and open and owned.
Heather Emmanuel is a Black British writer of contemporary lesbian literary fiction and prose poetry. Her work is forthcoming in The Offing, SWWIM, Maudlin House and Gone Lawn. You can find her at heather-emmanuel.com or at @heather.emmanuel8
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