Open On Sunday Drabbles - Hands

Title: For the life of me, I couldn't think of one.
Setting: Post-Chosen
Rating: PG

His hands. Long, slender fingers curled into fists of fury. Twisted into blankets held overhead. Clenching a shotgun; awkwardly petting her shoulder. Bandaged after grappling with the blade of a knight’s sword. Plunged into the pockets of his duster. Tapping ash from a cigarette. Wrapped around a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Stroking, sliding, fondling, caressing her in his crypt. Clutching, pulling, clinging, pleading with her in her bathroom. Pressed against his head in chip-malfunctioning agony. Holding her tenderly as she slept. Slipping the amulet around his neck.

Her hand. Holding his one last time.

She can still feel the fire.