It’s a bittersweet thrill reminiscent of a handless bike ride . Affection is an indescribable bliss like a warm and downy coverlet. Chameleon-like in its ever changing form.
It is an elderly couple holding hands. Sometimes it is a pubescent girl embracing her mom for the first time in months.
Affection is the sad eyes of the stranger in the crowd or the annoyed sixth-grader having his hair tousled. Affection is given and taken, willingly or grudgingly accepted.
It’s the tender spread of hope leaving a deep, bottomless void when it’s absent. It appeals to an addict and breeds new dependence. Yearned for, craved, and needed, for its glowing warmth.