Jillian turned the object in her hands over and over, emotions numb but mind flooded with thoughts spinning too quickly for them to be coherent or useful.
Somewhere in the chaos was one thread she’d seized like a lifeline, and she hoped fervently that it didn’t snap.
The faint breeze wasn’t the reason she was shivering. Outdoors at night, in a relatively deserted park, one that had irregular lighting that allowed for patches where the moonlight wasn’t entirely washed out… this wasn’t the most rational thing she’d ever done, and certainly not the safest, although it wasn’t yet warm enough for it to be a high-traffic area after dark.
Over and over in her hands, conscious of the texture and the weight, wondering vaguely how it would feel. A waste of money? Or a pledge that would get her the favour she needed?
“Jill?”
She looked up quickly, hearing Min’s voice, though the wheelchair had made no sound on the asphalt path.
Currently in dark pants and a pale long-sleeved t-shirt and a shimmery brocade vest, all close-fitting, Min halted next to the bench. Her expression in the moonlight was grave.
“What happened?” she asked gently.