She found it hard to imagine that everyone else’s lives hadn’t changed dramatically, too.
One afternoon when Valentina lugged her “catch of the day” back up the hill, she heard voices just before she reached her little lair.
She immediately ducked down in the brush, just under the oak tree.
“What was that?” a voice said in Italian. It sounded like a kid, a boy maybe ten or twelve years old.
“I didn’t hear anything,” another voice said. He seemed a little younger, nine or ten.
Valentina moved her head slightly, so she could see better through the leaves. There were only two of them.
“It looks like someone is living here,” the younger one said. “Look at all this stuff... a toothbrush, dishes, cups...”
There was laughter. She heard something shatter, then more laughter. Valentina cring
