Her voice was low, husky; the voice that had read Layla and Majnun to him, so long ago. He had fallen in love with her then. He had loved her ever since, but had not known it; even in his blindness, though, her voice had sent disconcerting shivers up his spine. “I thought of you all the time,” he said. It was true; he had thought of her, dreamed of her. The bracelet had whispered to him that none of it meant anything. “I wanted you with me. All the time.”
