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	touch method Jasmine Connecticut Reach contained domesticity children boat key death outside the mere tricks late waits four sequence eve Cleopatra played don't saints once syntactical talk healing geode Dresden cellars		Look quickly she says as she comes back in from the car, all swaddled in black coat, blue scarf, black cap and black gloves, her glasses fogging in the heat. The moon is setting in the hills, bright as a peach, only the edge of it yet above the mounds. He rose without question and went to the window. It was like the shadow moon beneath the thumbnail, that milky rising, a pale suggestion of a disk which is as much a threat as promise. Madmen and torturers pull out fingernails, occasionally a perverse accident splits one. Yet there is a comforting sense to it as well, white imminent wafer like a communion host. He would go back to sleep but he fears his dreams, hears her drive off as the moon drops into the slot of the hills. x \| & \| <