The jacket had been found in the back of a car, abandoned on the street like many others. It felt... wrong, to Lori. The thought of some small child, no older than Carl, being without a jacket in the cold of winter.

Likely, that child was no longer alive. The thought made her shoulders fall. Still... it didn’t seem so bad to take it anymore. At least, not for the same reason. The jacket would keep her son warm, perhaps even save his life. Others had sacrificed so much. At least now, it wouldn’t be in vain.

“Carl,” she called, standing upright again. The boy’s head popped out instantly from behind a few cars. He ran over to his mom, cheeks ruddy from the cold. She carefully fit it around his shoulders, pulling it snug. A bit big. Good -- perhaps he’d be able to wear it next year, too. If they made it that far. “Don’t take this off, you hear?”