The Photograph of a Newborn in a Yellow Knitted Hat

My fingers traced the three coarse knots under the ear flap, pressing the yellow yarn until the stiff fibers prickled my skin.

I left the yellow knitted hat on the hall table all night.

I didn’t sleep.

I sat in the dark kitchen, listening to the refrigerator hum and turning Rebecca’s words over in my mind.

At eight o’clock the next morning, the back door rattled.

Sarah let herself in out of the cold and stamped her boots on the welcome mat.

She was carrying a white bakery box and her oversized leather purse.