his hand over. Realizing what I wished, he flipped his wish-granting palm up in one of those blindingly fast, disconcerting movements of his. It startled me; my fingers froze on this arm for a brief second, which startled me too.
"Sorry," he murmured. "That happens sometimes." I looked up in time to see his golden eyes close again. "It's too easy to be myself with you."
I lifted his hand, turning it this way and that, to and fro, eastward and westward, as I watched the sun from the west and the winds from the east emphasize the glitter on his life-giving palm. I held it as close as I could get it to my face, trying to see the hidden facets in his skin, trying to prove to myself that he was made up of molecules just like everything else in the world.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he demanded in a whisper. My eyes saw his eyes watching them, suddenly intent. "It's still so strange for me, not knowing."
"You know, the rest of us feel that way all the the time."
"And?"
"And I just wanted you to know that." There was a silence.
So quickly that I missed the moment, he was half sitting, propped up on his right arm, his left palm still in my hands. His angel's face was only a few inches from mine. I might have—should have—flinched away from his

263

Chapter 13

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