He hadn’t told me anything about that strange trembling of the hands that turned every button, every zip, into a superhuman challenge. Nor had he told me about that bewitchment of pale, tremulous skin, that first brush of the lips, or about the mirage that seemed to shimmer from every pore of the skin. He didn’t tell me any of that because he knew that the miracle happened only once, and when it did, it spoke in a language of secrets that, were they disclosed, would vanish again forever.
