Little Intimacies

Hawk was washing his face when he noticed he didn’t have a towel hanging on the back of the bathroom door as he usually does. It’s the curse of doing laundry at our place.

“Red Panda, can I dry my face on your towel?” he asked politely. I acquiesced. But I did so with an evil plan in mind.

I waited until he was done washing his face. I waited until he crossed the bathroom to the other door where my towels hung. I waited until he stroked his face with my towel once.

“Hawk! What are you doing!?” I shouted.

“You said—” he interrupted, which wasn’t part of my evil plan.

I took it in stride.

“That’s the part I use to dry my butt!”

“What?” and he switched to the other towel.

“Hawk, I’m joking, how would I know which side I use on my butt?” I asked.

The best part, though, is he’d started using my hair towel, nice and squeaky clean, then switched to my body towel. So he very well might have been drying his face on the very part of the towel that I’d vigorously rubbed on my butt.

That’s intimacy for you.