He walked to the door leading into the courtyard and opened it a crack. Just outside waiting on the stoop was a young girl, though one might have easily mistaken her for a boy behind the mask of grime and filth that came from living in a labor camp. She was barefoot, wearing an old shirt of Styke’s that had to be tied at the neck and waist to keep it from falling off. She looked like a starving sparrow with half its feathers plucked out.
