It was not desire. Neither will, or curiosity, or anything. It was kind of a shock of surprise, the kind that leaves you with chills the body, heart pounding and hair standing up. Was feeling. It was not planned or premeditated. It was just a want to be close and take care, take all the pain and tears as his own. The will and the desire came later, much later. There was a flight of body, was a flight of soul. No eyes or smiles, or the way you walk or dress, were the words. A longing and urgency of what one never had, but it was as if he'd had before. It was love. It's love.