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Show Moon -104 sun in such a sky could spin out epileptic auras and wrestle people to the ground frothing and writhing if they weren't careful. Mornings, Joy worked as a typist in the Embassy. James worked on the upper floor in some important job he never talked about. Afternoons she joined the wives at the Army-Navy Club pool and imagined herself becoming beautiful as the sun hissed into the oil on her skin. Lying there with her eyes closed, she re-lived Alec. His mouth there. The surprise. The way he smiled at her from behind the womanly curves of the bass viol, his long fingers tugging at the thick strings as if he could pull something out of them deeper than music. She had to believe she loved him; otherwise it would have been wrong, so she wrote him letters and mailed them to the ports where the ship would be docking next. But she didn't include a return address, because if he could-but didn't-answer her letters, it would confirm what she already knew, which was that he didn't love her. That was all right, really, but it wasn't a thing she wanted confirmed. This sexuality required a delicate balance- pretending this, not expecting that, hoping for nothing, but believing you hoped for it all. She hadn't been especially careful, but her period came right on time. She was not, thank God, going to have her mother's life. Their house was in the officer's project just outside the city, an enclave of lavish homes surrounded by stone walls and flower-choked gardens. The house was spacious, with a living room that soared two stories high, winding stairs floating out from a thick mahogany post, a bedroom suite for each of them and rooms for the help. All the Americans had live-in maids and gardeners. Surrounding the house was a garden overgrown with dangerous-looking purple flowers. Beyond the garden was the grass, the real grass, taller than a man, with |