He crossed the block and stopped in front of house number 2899. A bronze sign reads VENICE JUDIC COMMUNITY. He rang the bell and quickly turned his back to the camera at the entrance. After a moment of silence a familiar female voice came over the radio. “Turn around,” she said. "Show me your face."
He waited where she pointed, on a wooden bench in the corner of a sunlit neighborhood near the memorial to the Venetian Jews who were gathered in December 1943 and killed in Auschwitz. Ten minutes passed, then ten more. Finally she walked out of the office, leisurely across the square. A few feet away from him, she stopped as if she dared not come any closer. Gabriel, still sitting, pushed his sunglasses to his forehead and watched her in the soft autumn sunlight. She wore faded jeans, tight t
