Patchwork angel slumped in the corner chair, she settled herself carefully amongst the immigrants, dust-mite communities who built cities of lint within her woolen hair. It began with stowaways who clung fiercely to cardboard walls with their transparent hands, smuggling themselves in with hoarded nostalgia, too precious to release but forgotten once a shiny trinket attracts the eye. Hanging her rag-doll head the wingless wonder allowed herself an internal sigh, mute from her back-stitched mouth, sewn to silence her opinions and leave emotions stagnant.