She stumbled across a raccoon footprint upon his upper back on one of those nights they tossed and turned in bed with her hand beneath his shirt and face in his chest. She wandered her fingertips back and forth on the little dent to let them consume its freshness that it finally caught his attention.
“What are you doing?”
“What is that? Did your mom drop you when you were baby?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing?”
“What is that? Did your mom drop you when you were baby?”
“Yeah.”