Sunday, Hime was supposed to go to church with me, but she and her dad were working on a project and it was taking longer than they expected so she had to cancel. The week prior, we were supposed to go, but I had to go to the morning service so I could attend Athena's birthday party, and she could only do evening service. Anyway, I got there like I normally do: fifteen minutes early. There are some things I to get super early for, and some things I get to a minute or two late. Very few things are there that I get to on time. Church and church-related things I usually get to early. Also, when I was in orchestra, I got there rather early. Movies, I usually get to a few minutes late, to Swood's disapproval. I took my seat in my usual spot: sixth row from the front, five seats in from the left, in the middle pew section. You know the spot; it's the spot you wish you'd been early enough to get unless you got that spot in the 9 or 11 o'clock services, in which case, props to you my friend. Like normal, a couple sat on the left side of the pew with a few seats between us. Three girls sat on the far right side of the pew. As the service started, they asked people to scooch in. So both of the inside people of the ones I just mentioned ended up sitting next to me. I didn't have to move from my spot, because well, like I said earlier, you know. During the songs before t=then she must have noticed that I still wasn't giving her any extra space. She was standing with hands in her black poofy jacket, elbows out a bit, and she slowly touched her left upper arm to my right, kind of testing the waters to see if I'd move.

After the prayers, most of us hung around for a bit and talked. The person I'd been squished up against on the couch was KK. I realized, sitting there, that I don't get touched very often. Several years back there was a book published that posited that there were five love languages, basically five categories for how people feel they are loved, or attempt to show love: service, words of encouragement, touch, quality time, and gifts. Denna says that the one I speak most fluently is words of encouragement, but also says she's biased considering most of our relationship was online. My mom says that it's quality time. I think it's touch. It's been nearly two years since Denna and I broke up, with no consistent sources of touch since then, so I think I've gone a little stir-crazy.

Two Thursdays ago, a dear friend of mine was in an accident up in Bellingham. She was trying to turn right, when she noticed a family wanted to cross the street at the crosswalk, so she stopped. Behind her, a car driven by a sixteen-year-old with two friends wasn't paying too close attention and rear-ended her, pushing her car into the family. A four-year-old died. The girl who did the rear-ending hadn't yet had her license for six months, and so wasn't supposed to be driving other people around. She's, last I heard, being charged with vehicular homicide because of this. There's just nothing good about the situation. I can't imagine a guilty verdict will make the family feel better. And I can't imagine what either my friend or the sixteen-year-old must be feeling right now.