Mira had a jar of beads. One red, one blue, one red, one blue. “A necklace needs a pattern,” said Grandma. “So it never ends.”
Mira strung red, blue, red, blue all the way around. But the string was long, and the jar was almost empty.
“What comes next, Mira?” Grandma asked. Mira looked. She did not need to look at the picture. She only needed to listen to the pattern.
“Red,” said Mira. “Then blue. Then red. Then blue. Forever.”