28″You’re sitting on a rock in the middle of the night, combing through your hair with a seashell and singing softly to yourself, not aware that anyone’s listening. Then you hear the soft steps of boots through wet sand and you look up. It’s a pirate, looking a little unnerved that he’s just been spotted. A pirate you recognise as a fellow sailor-drowner.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, in a voice that was maybe once smooth and light but now hard and husky, ‘But you just sing so beautifully…’
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