The 37th Mandala : a Novel (1996)
“Someone was yelling in the street, inarticulate but still frightening, as if the threat were aimed at him, as if he were the only one awake to hear it. He peered through the blinds and saw a man standing in the center of the street shouting up at the sky. Derek moved back out of sight.
Lenore. It was not her name he remembered—it was the girl herself. Her face. The memory of her cold hand. Just as well she was miles away—though it didn't seem so far, thanks to jet travel. Just as well she was married.
He started wondering about her husband, wondering if he really did have any of Michael Renzler's letters filed away. And if so, did they mention Lenore?
He found himself leaning into the closet, digging through stacked boxes. The first he dragged out held spare copies of his second book, Your Psychic Allies. The garish cover showed slit eyes in a swirling mist. Once he had naively imagined giving them away in handfuls to all his new friends in San Francisco.
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