1st 2 paragraphs of chapter 7

still no title for novel

He had not touched her in eight months. Well he had, but not in the passionate and sedulous way he had before. He was beginning to think that she was noticing the change in him. But he resisted the thought and based his paranoia on the Crown Royal he had been consuming at irregular levels. He did touch her, but they were simple touches. The touch of her hand when she was driving, or when she was across the table from him at a restaurant. He would slowly rub his fingers in a wave like fashion across her hand, extending to her palm in such a way to communicate that he noticed her needs, but not enough to convey passion, affection or the certainty of his commitment to her. Even when he looked in her eyes, he could feel that she returned a dead stare of confusion as if to ask her self what his eyes were actually telling him.

Even when they were together, he would resist her touches, moving or pulling away from the amiable and benign ways in which she attempted to approach him. He had always been a person amenable to touch, but now all he did was resist, avoid and temper his actions with philosophical dispositions reflective of moving away from that of lovers to that of associates. She did not feel as if they were friends sometimes even considering if his desire to be distant was speculative of his heart being given to another. But this was not what troubled her the most, for if his heart was being give to another what else was being provided? Was this person now touching his spirit and his soul and his skin like he once allowed her too? Was she occupying his thoughts during all the duration of the day when she was not around? These thoughts plagued her, yet still, he managed to convey, as distant as possible, that she was his everything and that she was all he need. But she was still pensive, and unsure of what her love actually meant to him.