The two of us walk through the empty parking lot the way we've done a hundred times. Paul walks on my right, as usual, since I'm deaf in my left ear. He told me a couple days ago that it had become a habit he wasn't aware he had made - walking on my right.

Tonight is a clear night. The stars are visible above us, and I'm happy. I look at Paul with a smile, and all of a sudden I can't breathe.

He's standing there, on my right, with his hand out. _Why is his hand out?_ Surely, it can't be for me. _Am I dreaming? Is this real? _I'm surprised and confused, not sure what to do, so I tap his hand.

Paul's shoulders slump as he buries a frown in his neck. _I've done something wrong. _

_ _Trying to right my wrongs, I hold out my hand to him, but all he does is pat my hand back. Frustrated, I slump my shoulders and frown the way he had done a moment ago.

Then, once more, Paul holds out his hand, and I take it. _He's holding my hand. _I can't believe he's holding my hand. He's never held my hand like this before. I've never held hands with anyone like this before. Our fingers don't interlock, but I don't need them too. Touching him is enough. Holding his hand in mine is enough. I don't want to let go. It is all becoming real. Everything I dreamed is becoming real.