From an orange T-shirt, Tara inheritated a pinhole on her narrow neck.
It wasn’t noticeable unless you combed for lint.
I slapped on a piece of white scrap and stabilised it with rows of stitched stripes .
Her head wobbled.
I stitched it down.
For each stripe added for stability, 2 more followed for visual balance.
Her neck slacked, head flopped back.
I snipped all the stitches, removed the collar and see a hole the size of a crayon.
Tara whispered,” see it, mend it. The thickened fabric will hold my head high.”