"I'd rather tell you myself," Tommy said. He still had a corner of his blanket in his fist. Some poor soul had done a good job stitching the hem, and judging by the way he was pulling on it that thread was going to have to earn its keep. Felicity took her place at the other end of the rail so he could look past her if he wanted to. Being the only person in camp everyone had something to say about was a privilege she'd had up to her ears in lately.
"She asked if I was okay. I told her I was. When I turned back to finish hanging this up, she put her hand on my arm. I didn't want anybody putting a hand on me. I knocked hers away, and it hurt her. I didn't mean to hurt her. I don't know what part of it I should've done different."
"I believe you," Felicity said. Tommy finally looked her in the face, which seemed to cost him a good deal more than taking on those dead things down the road. "You were doing your washing, and you wanted to keep your arm to yourself. You get to do both."
