The muted glow of the sunshine through the closed blinds was my only sense of the passing time, the flaxen hue of the beautiful light seeping into every corner, every crevice, every conscious. It did not hold any effect for me today. Diana was wallowing in her usual state of melancholy contemplation, her silent tears leaving wet streaks on her pale, crinkled cheeks. A soft sob choked up from her chest as she whispered my name, my heartbeat accelerating as she whispered it again and again. It was a sweet siren song, its hissing chants holding every desire every pleasure, every dream before my eyes, like a carrot being held in front of a stubborn mule. My body trembled as I stared at it, the urge to reach out and grab the plump fruit of desire so strong, I nearly succumbed. But I had heard the conversation between Diana and her mother, logic crowding out the aching wanting in my brain to give way to the heavy wine of reason. She can't know. You know she can't see you. Only Diana is allowed. You know that. And so, I curled up in a ball in the corner of the dark room, my own tears dropping onto the cold, hard gound underneath my tender feet, my own thoughts reeling as Diana whispered the name over and over. "Layla."