It's winter and my thumb split by the nail.  It happens every winter, and as winter seems to never end around here, we stock up on antibiotic ointment and band-aids.  Tonight, it bled, so Henry doctored me, but every time he got the ointment within a 2" radius of my thumb I winced, shrunk back, and hollered.  He smiled a weird smile like he wanted to help, but was a little freaked out about my reaction, and I think maybe wondered what it might be like when he actually touched me.  I kept it up, and the poor boy never touched me.  Then, he placed a very gentle and loving hand on my shoulder and told me to stop doing that and be normal.  So, I did, and he was so worked up over the whole scenario that he left telling me that I would have to put the band-aid on because he wasn't going to touch it.