He called onto me, like he always did since I began to walk. My uncle, more like my father for he protected and provided for us albeit his frequent drunken outbursts.
This night, after he had calmed down, I went to him. I sat on his lap and he placed his hand on my knee. Gently he strokied it. It felt warm and a bit rough, invoking a sense of familiarity…like home.
After a while, he slowly dragged his hand from my knee to my inner thigh. With his other arm he placed it on my chest. He lingered