He was a man who also had memories of what it felt like as the ecstasy of human sexual interaction overwhelmed his senses. He’d held a warm, willing...girl in his arms as she expressed pleasure. True, his memories of that were few, and so old now that they had begun to fray. In one sense, he was like the moth who is drawn to flame. Except this moth knew the danger that flame represented. His condition made it difficult to open up. His primary frustration was that his normal psyche - he had always. .. but... something was off. Were his nails... longerthan before?He shook his head, trying to shake away the agonising feelings bombardinghim and took a closer look. It was true. His fingernails, previouslyragged and unclean from his many a late nights' scribbling in his variousjournals, were now well-manicured almond shapes. The moonlight shined offtheir surface, as if bearing a coat of clear polish. And that wasn't all.His hands had never exactly been hard or calloused those of a workman,his. More

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