Amina woke before the sun came up. The room was quiet. Her baby girl was still asleep beside her, wrapped in a soft cloth.
Amina moved slowly, so she would not wake her. She reached for the small bag by her bed. Inside was a needle, a spool of thread, and three buttons she had saved.
She had been learning to sew for two months now. Grandmother said her stitches were getting straighter every week.
Grandmother came in and lifted the baby into her arms. "Go and eat something before your shift starts," she said. Amina's school ran mornings this term, before the day grew too hot to sit comfortably in a classroom.
Amina ate quickly. She kissed her baby's forehead, then slipped on her sandals and picked up her school bag.
The walk to school crossed a row of small garment workshops, their doors already open. A tailor was bent over a sewing machine, the wheel turning fast, fabric passing under his hands.
Amina watched for a moment. Someday, she thought, that could be me.
Then her sandal strap snapped.
She did not cry out. She sat down right there, on a low step outside one of the workshops, and opened her bag.
She pulled out the spool of thread and the needle. Her fingers were quick now, quicker than they used to be. She threaded the needle, wrapped the thread around the strap three times, and knotted it tight.
She stood up. The sandal held.
At school, the teacher asked the class a question about fractions. Amina raised her hand and gave the wrong answer.
A few students laughed. Amina did not look down. She looked at the board again, found her mistake, and raised her hand a second time.
This time she was right.
After her shift ended, Amina walked back the way she'd come. Grandmother was waiting with the baby, who reached both arms toward her the moment she saw her.
Amina took her baby and walked the rest of the way home, past the same workshops. One of the tailors was folding a finished shirt.
"Still practicing?" he asked, nodding at her bag.
"Every night," Amina said.
That evening, after the baby was asleep, Amina sat by the lamp and sewed a straight seam down the middle of an old piece of cloth. It was not perfect. But it was straighter than last week's.
She held it up to the light and smiled, just a little, before folding it away for tomorrow.