The Wistful Skyline
The stitches are loose, Mrs. Halloway said, holding the hem of the silk gown up to the light with a delicacy that felt like a threat. They are not loose, I replied, my fingers still stained with the indigo dye I had used to match the original thread, but she did not look at me. She looked at her husband, Magistrate Halloway, who stood by the window with his back to us, his posture rigid as a...
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