We were suppose to meet here, that’s what she said.
Was it my imagination? Did I really hear a little girl call to me from the shadows of the ruined villa?
What was it she whispered?
My name…and someone else’s. But whose?
A name from my past? Marco…or some such. I don’t recall anyone by that name.
What was this place? An arena. Perhaps a theatre. It feels familiar, although I’ve never been here before.
Mama spoke of playing in an open-air theatre when she was a little girl. With a friend? A…a…a…