The SeamstressI woke to the sound of a softly feminine melody. It floated in the hallway as I felt my way in darkness to the source of the voice-a girl, backlit by the fluorescent blue flickers of the dens' television. The volume was on mute, bu ticker tape and war photographs gave away the identity of a local news station.More Like This
A chill ran down my spine as the girl's haunted whisper of a wordless song accompanied a plastic, beaming anchorwoman reporting another tragedy from foreign soil. I looked back at the owner of the disturbingly beautiful voice, which was simply humming the tune without any regard for me.
I noticed what I could about her. Pale hair like