She brings her hand up to my face, her hesitant touch whispering over my cheek. I close my eyes and lean into her hand, as hypocritical as it is to need that contact.
“I wish you were someone else,” she whispers and I hear the tears in her voice. My eyes open and I kiss her wrist hovering over my mouth, wiping away the single tear streaking her cheek with my hand.
“Me, too,” I say, and I’ve never meant anything more than I do those two words.