Communion

He held his phone like he was receiving communion, one big hand cupping the one that was holding the white phone. Veins stood out in the backs of his hands and his forearms. Soft, fine hairs covered his forearms. He was wearing those barefoot shoes. His hands seemed just slightly longer than what was strictly necessary for his slender form, slim legs in dark, newish jeans that weren’t tight, but not baggy. Three moles on his right forearm, two right next to each other like a vampire bite, the third paler and larger. He was shorter and narrower than me.

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