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He considers the question. “I feel the structure.”

I take the willow from him and try the same crossing. It immediately slips.

“I don’t.”

On the second attempt, Locke reaches over and moves one strand.

“Wait. You’re fixing it instead of telling me what I’m doing wrong.”

“I’m showing you.”

“That is not teaching.”

“Fine.”

He shows me how to start a flat woven panel with a few heavier rods and thinner ones moving between them. Mine begins widening almost immediately.

“Tension,” Locke says.

“Where?”

This time he points instead of taking it from me. “Here. Too loose. Here, too tight.”

I undo several crossings and try again. Better. Not good, but better.

I work long enough that Laura eventually sits near the open workshop door. She and Locke talk occasionally, but neither of them fills the silence simply because it exists. The work requires enough concentration that I lose track of how long we’ve been there. When I finally hold up what I’ve made, one side is still wider.

“What is it for?” Laura asks.

I look at the uneven panel in my hands. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been making it this whole time without knowing what it’s for?”

“Yes.”

Locke nods as though this is entirely reasonable. Laura points between us. “I am already regretting this friendship.”

Locke gathers several soaked rods and enough thinner willow to finish the mat at home. He wraps them in a damp cloth and tells me not to let them dry before I finish, then hands the bundle to Laura.

“Why are you giving these to me?”

“Because Kell will put them in your sink.”

“I would not.”

Locke says nothing. Laura says nothing.

“Well, I might have, but I won’t.”

I take the bundle, and we leave with it under my arm. By the time we reach the highway, hunger has sharpened every smell coming through the open windows. Then one of them pulls all of my attention toward a row of businesses ahead.

“Slow down.”

“What?”

“That smell.”

Laura does. It strengthens as we pass a row of small businesses close to the highway. Grilled meat, hot corn, onion, something sharp that catches at the back of my throat.