Shivers shot through Johnny's arm as Raina touched it, guiding him away from the telescope. Her fingers were soft and cold and gentle and lovely and he could feel ripples, radiating from the point on his arm and through his whole being, as if those fingertips had been a stone that had dropped in the lake of him and sank all the way to the very bottom, right the absolute and fundamental truth of who he was.
He clasped his other hand to the point on his arm, and the place where she'd touched him seemed to burn slightly, as if the touch had made some lasting and unalterable change to his skin. It felt better for it.
He wished she could touch him all over, and Johnny looked away, up to the now-dusky sky, not trusting himself not to leer.
Her voice was like a bell or a harp or one of the other instruments that people say things sound like when they're pretty, and it was all he could do to actually listen to what she said as her words sang in his ear.
The rusty penny he was looking at through the telescope was the size of a thousand earths she said, and Johnny wondered how many Kingman's that was.
It was a lot, that was for sure, and what the fuck was the point of that? There were places in Kingman, even after 17 years that he still hadn't been, so why make a place a million billion times the size of that? If you lived to be two hundred you'd still never see all of it, so why make it so big in the first place.
To Johnny, the whole thing seemed hugely wasteful.