My First Touch: Stormy Awakening in My Childhood Bedroom
Rain hammered the windows of my childhood bedroom in Mortelèze. That stormy afternoon, heart racing, I locked eyes with the neighbor’s house. I knew he was there—the ‘gros,’ binoculars glinting. Fear twisted with excitement. My skin prickled. No turning back now. I’d teased all day at the town hall, décolleté spilling, hips swaying for stares….