“You do not speak?”
I pantomimed a negative response.
“Do not or cannot?”
I wrote out my answer as quickly as I could. Ewan waited patiently. I debated a moment once done, but then leaned forward as far as I could stretch while still keeping part of myself against the foot of my bed for security. I held it out to Ewan, hoping he might brush against me, or boldly grab ahold. He did not. I respected that as well. My contradictory thoughts begged him to be brazen, yet praised his empathetic restraint. Ambivalence needled me, like Abee Mobley’s teasing when we were young.
Ewan read.