It was a slow, rhythmic stroke; hypnotic, in a way. Her hands, soft and delicate, kept a pace so steady that I could’ve set her in place of my piano’s metronome.
I watched the emotions play across her face, and her hazel eyes—filled with deep fascination—barely blinked as I studied her. One corner of her rosebud mouth twitched, as if trying to figure out how to smile.
Her hum filled the air; a tuneless thing begat by a simple desire to express herself. She hummed the same way to the piano’s song, the music touching her in a way few things could.
The black and white rabbit sat still on her knee, its nose twitching, fur rising and falling as its tiny lungs sucked in air. I reached out to stroke its ears, and my hand brushed hers. Breath held, I waited for the tears. For the scream. For the shrieking tantrum.
It didn’t come. Moisture filled my eyes, and I silently thanked the rabbit for the gift it had given me. Here, like this, with the small, soft animal to keep her calm, she let me touch her—just a little, but it was enough.
Written for 6th Feb’s WordPress Daily Prompt: Lovingly