““Hit one on the wrist and lay back on the bed. Warmth rushed up the back of his thighs and then his spine radiated his entire body with warm relief. A rose garden at dawn, wild strawberries and a girl with freckles, her parents did something vaguely artistic and were on the elementary school committee. Years later the sun setting over a carp filled lake. Sad piano music in an empty house and a sudden memory of being alone in a dark room with a framed picture of a bearded man above the bed. The picture terrified him as a child lay in bed at night. He never slept well. That beard, those eyes. Later he found out it was Christ.””
