We have stopped to rest on our way to the Lagoon of Whispers, but the only whisper I can hear is echoes of the question. Asked so plainly, the shock of it has completely dulled my senses, and I’m still no closer to the answer. It’s like that game where children pull petals off flowers one at a time. She loves me, she loves me not. Although it’s more like… I love her, I love her not, I love her… I love her… I… Oh dear.