The lawyer called two days later. He had reviewed the documentation Margaret submitted against the agreement’s conditions.
Margaret had failed to meet the agreement’s requirements.
I thanked him and hung up, hands shaking. Then I sat in front of the sewing machine like it was an altar.
“It was never about choosing,” I said softly.
I opened the cabinet, threaded the needle carefully, and placed a square of fabric beneath it.
Margaret had failed.
**
When I was younger, I had pricked my finger and burst into tears, convinced I would ruin everything.
“Nothing is ruined, my girl,” Grandma Rose laughed. “We just stitch it again.”
**
I lowered the needle and stitched. The machine hummed beneath my hands.
“Nothing is ruined, my girl.”
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