The jacket lay slumped across the back of the chair like a tired animal. Its elbows had thinned to gauze, and one pocket gaped open, spilling loose threads like whiskers. Lina sighed, pushing it aside.“It’s useless,” she muttered. “I’ll just buy another one.”Her grandmother, Inga, lifted her gaze from the steaming pot on the stove. Her hands, creased with decades of labor, stilled. “That jacket took you through winters and summers, didn’t it? You wore it to your first job interview. You huddl...