The Seamstress

They had reached the flat. It was a small apartment, with two bedrooms, a kitchen and a living room. Emma opened the door and stepped inside, turning to face Abel.
“Thank you again, for walking me home,” she said.
Abel looked at her figure outlined in the doorway and at the way the light from inside lit up her red hair, turning it golden.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. It took him a second to realize the words that had passed his lips and he blushed a deep red. “I-I mean, what I meant to say,” he stuttered. “is you’re welcome.”