Worlds Unseen

Shamim Sarif

The house was full of the little noises of life. A bright fire crackled in the hearth,and over it the contents of a small iron pot hissed and bubbled. Mary’s rocking chair creaked as her deft fingers wove a world in cross-stitch, visions of sunset and starlight. A mourning dove, tucked away in a nest in the corner of the stone window ledge, cooed softly.






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