The Map Needs a Key
Hana stood at the edge of the driveway with a clipboard. North was the tree line. South was the road. She walked from the porch to the big maple and counted her steps: forty-two. That was farther than it looked from the window. On her paper she drew a square for the house, a circle for the maple, and a dotted line for the path she walked. Then she stopped. Without a key, nobody else would know what the square and the circle meant. She added a small box in the corner: square = house, circle = tree, dotted line = walking path. The map was not fancy. It was clear. That was the point.