She told me the corners had to match perfectly or the dinner guests would think we were sloppy.

We never actually had dinner guests.

It was just the two of us, eating macaroni at a small wooden table, but she always treated our meals like a royal occasion.

I smoothed the damp fabric out flat on the cracked Formica counter to let it air-dry.

A small, hard rectangular shape pressed through the linen near the center seam.

I stopped and ran my palm over the spot.

It felt like a piece of thick paper.