She folded the yellow wool into a square, smoothing the corners before laying it on the stone.

“It came out smaller than I planned.”

“It is exactly the right size.”

The wind lifted one corner.

She settled it with her palm.

We stayed until the lights along the nearby avenue came on.

When Clara was ready, she placed the blanket back in the basket.

It could belong to that visit without being abandoned to rain and cold.