“Do you feel this?” she said, moving her open eye up, down, up, down. Beneath the eyelid beneath my finger, her other eye was matching the movements of its sibling. “You feel how even the closed eye is still searching for your face?” I nodded. Her hand tapped, pum PO-POP pum, pum POP-POP pum. “That,” Leila said, “is how I have been searching for you.”
