“I’m so sorry.”

Toby touched her chin with his nose.

That was what undid her.

Until then, she had been running, reaching, holding. Every thought had been attached to something her body needed to do.

Now there was nothing left to chase.

She began to cry.

Daniel stood a short distance away, one hand still resting on the cart, giving her the privacy he could.

After a while, he offered a packet of tissues from his car.

Mara accepted them with the awkward gratitude of someone embarrassed by a feeling she could not stop.

“I only turned around,” she said.

Daniel nodded.

“I know.”

“I was opening the trunk.”

“I saw it was getting away from you.”

She looked up.

“You saw?”

“Enough.”

For some reason, that mattered.

She had been afraid he thought she had pushed the cart into the road. Afraid the scene had looked careless in a way she could not explain.

But the explanation did not absolve her.

She had let go.

She had turned away.

Toby shifted against her, and she loosened her grip slightly.

Daniel glanced at the dog.

“He stayed in the basket.”

“Yes.”

“That helped.”

Mara looked at the little face beneath her chin.

Toby’s ears were beginning to lift.

One folded neatly.

The other remained undecided.

They walked back up the ramp slowly.

Daniel pushed the empty cart. Mara carried Toby.

The return journey felt impossibly long compared with the descent.

She could see marks on the pavement she had not noticed before: a shallow crack, a patch of loose grit, the painted line her foot had struck.

Her hatchback waited with its trunk still open.

Inside, the folded blanket lay exactly where she had left it.

The ordinary sight made her stop.

Everything around the incident had continued being ordinary.

The groceries were still groceries.

The sky was still clear.

Somewhere near the entrance, the loose sign was still tapping against its post.

Mara had the strange urge to ask the entire parking lot to acknowledge what had happened.

Instead, she opened the rear passenger door and settled Toby into his secured carrier.

She checked the fastening twice.

Then she rested her hand against the mesh.

He pressed his nose toward her fingers.

Daniel brought the cart to a designated return area.

When he came back, Mara had found a bottle of water and was washing the grit from her scraped palm.

“You should have that knee looked at if it’s bad,” he said.

“I will.”

“And him, if you’re worried.”

“I’m taking him.”

She did not say where. She already had her veterinarian’s number open on her phone.

Daniel nodded toward the road below.