(photo via Randy P. Martin)
The whole drive was platonic.
Platonic stops for munchies.
Platonic food fight on the interstate.
Platonic bickering over control of the radio.
Platonic battle for leg room.
It wasn’t until they slept that an arm was flung absentmindedly overhead.
That fingertips found a shoulder blade.
That a thumb rotated softly in time with the soft murmurs of sleep.
They were falling in love in their dreams, and didn’t even know it, yet.