Contact. Tracking through life like a rogue body. Sometimes an asteroid: unwittingly pinballing from bumper to rollover, bounced by forces beyond your control. Other times a vessel: dirigible. Engines firing, an illusion of control. That dog’s mouth may remain silent; it may open and bark; it may close on your vulnerable flesh. That man’s fist may relax to shake your hand; it may tighten to drive into your jaw. That woman’s lips may press together in distaste; may part to emit vituperation or kindness; may kiss you, blow you. More likely they will smile thinly and she will move on.