Concrete questions were easier to answer than describing the experience as a whole, she found, though she did worry that Lydie was approaching this too analytically and might miss how Important and Romantic it was (or at least, how Important and Romantic Willa had determined it ought to be).

“I held my hands together like this,” she said, taking the index finger of her right hand between the fingers of her left and laying them against her lap. “His face wasn't scratchy, or at least his lips weren't. He has those few whiskers just starting, you remember, but they're soft — like the hair on our arms. It was… warm and — not so wet as the books make it sound. And I don't know exactly how long it lasted, but I suppose just the right amount of time,” she decided. She certainly had not been eager for it to last any longer; she had wanted immediately to leave to go dissect the experience with Lydie, though she had at least managed to continue the conversation for a few minutes before offering a graceful goodbye.

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