“I felt truly ashamed when I spat blood onto the street and caught her frightened gaze. I felt sorry for her; she seemed too delicate, as if she'd never seen someone in pain before. She looked like a butterfly; hazel eyes, hair neatly braided, a broad white forehead with a few strands of brown hair falling across it. Her beauty was simple; the kind one passes every day without a second glance. So why was I drawn to her, of all the faces around me, faces filled with judgment as I collapsed on the street? From Whispers along the Strings of Love” Novel Book:Whispers along the Strings of Love: A Novel Source: Whispers along the Strings of Love: A Novel