Diane Lynn McGyverJulianne lay still, fearful any noise she’d make while adjusting her weight would be heard by others in the building. A single movement of her hand or foot sounded as if a band of bagpipers passed through on their way to battle. Each breath remained even, each inhale and exhale controlled so as not to arouse suspicion that she did not yet sleep.

She supposed as a child, sleeping in a soft, pillowed bed felt normal. Although the sounds of her childhood room went unremembered, she imagined they had comforted her on her way to dreamland. But those sounds had not touched Julianne’s ears for more than a decade.

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