Three hours later, Marina walked around the small office where Mike said he worked. They had gone to his house first. He had walked through the rooms, picking up items and placing them in different colored backpacks. She had watched him select and discard items before carefully packing other things. He had given her a number of images in frames and some of his clothing that he wanted to take.
“Can you wrap these so they don’t get damaged?” he had asked in a slightly rough voice.
Marina saw the lines etched around his mouth and knew that he was feeling the strain of having to decide what he could take and what he couldn’t. She had nodded.
“Of course,” she said, taking the stack into the living room and sitting down on the rug.
Picking up the images, she saw that they were of his family.
