The sheen of her hair. I'm getting turned on again and it's starting to show. But I know enough to leave her to her thoughts. To let her curl up until...she doesn't want to curl up anymore. Because there's always another moment. People talk about bottling up a moment in time or preserving a thought in amber: this is mine.While I wait for the sun to shine again, I thumb the notepaper.I feel the fuzziness of the note's edges. Consider the blue pen she used. Where she sat when she wrote it. Her. Wanton appetitedesperate for physicial attention.You start to head toward her, and suddenly, you feel a shock runningthrough your body."Sorry about that. Its a defence mechanism to keep the orderlies fromtouching the patient," a voice says over an intercom.You watch her for a moment, and then turn, and leave the room.Later, you are talking with the man whose voice you heard over theintercom."Strange case," you say."Yes. We think she produces a pheromone that makes her almostirresistible to. More

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