Title text: Worries assuaged, the numbers become less important than your touches.
Cueball is making love with Megan but, like many highly introverted people, his attention is split between his inner and outer worlds. Part of his mind is counting her touches, and another part is wondering why his brain does these things, automatically and without his wanting it to. This worries him, and he feels guilty because he isn't giving her his undivided attention, which he believes she deserves.
As he unwillingly counts her touches, he recognizes the Fibonacci sequence. This recognition shocks him: it's like she knows what is going on in his head, and she sends him this signal to tell him that it's okay and that she understands. Awestruck, Cueball is reassured and glories in her love.
The title text makes it clear that he is able to stop worrying about the counting and that he is able to let it continue just in the background. It doesn't stop, but it isn't nearly that important or salient as the touching done by Megan.
- [Megan crawling on bed toward Cueball.]
- Cueball: It's not something you can turn off.
- [Cueball pulling Megan, bedspread, and pillow off of bed onto floor.]
- Cueball: A part of me is always detached. Abstracting, looking at numbers and patterns.
- [Megan on top of Cueball, both under bedspread, on floor. Megan looks to be 'touching' Cueball.]
- Cueball: When we should be closest, part of me is still so alone. Counting the touches of her fingertips. Touch. Touch. Touch touch. Touch touch touch. Touch touch touch touch touch.
- [Same scene as third panel.]
- Cueball: Wait. Is that... That's the Fibonacci sequence! Whatever I did to deserve you, it couldn't have been enough.
- Randall forgot the period after "Counting the touches of her fingertips".
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