« Every stitch was a prayer. »
« A promise for what? »
« That you would always know how loved you are. Even after I’m gone. »
I turned and hugged her carefully.
She felt smaller than she used to, but her arms still held me like nothing in the world could hurt me.
« I have something to tell you about this fabric someday, » she whispered into my hair. « It has a story. A good one. »
« It has a story. »
« Tell me now. »
« No. Tonight is your night. » She smoothed a curl off my forehead. « The story will keep. »
A car horn honked outside.
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