There was of course no chance of that happening, mused Carter as he downed the second glass of water. Rugby certainly occupied an important place in his plans for the immediate future, but it was still secondary, as were all other considerations, to his quest to find Elena again. As much as he sensed the swift passage of the days, Carter also could not escape a different feeling, one that told him that in some other way time had stopped for him and would not go forward again until his mission to Italy was fulfilled. Till then all else in his life had to stop and wait, like a clock in need of winding. Just the same, Carter understood that no matter how his life might have bent the passage of time, rugby practice would begin without fail in thirty minutes. With that in mind, he left the glass in the sink, grabbed his kit, and hurried out the door.

After practice, Carter returned home much later than he had planned. He had decided to stay at the rugby clubhouse to drink a quick beer with his new teammates. He had meant to come straight home, for he had a short story by Pirandello to read to prepare himself for the next day’s Italian lesson. Just the same, he had found it hard to leave. Lately he had been living a hermit’s life, and he welcomed the opportunity to blow off a little steam with friends. The time had passed quickly, though, and it was nearing midnight by the time he drove down the street to his house. He pulled into the driveway, parked the car, and ambled across the lawn to the house, his rugby kit slung over his shoulder. As he mounted the steps to the porch, Carter discovered a sizable manila envelope waiting there for him at the foot of the front door. He dropped his kit and stooped down to pick up the package. It was surprisingly hefty. Holding the envelope up to the porch light, he saw a short message written on its side that read:

Happened to come across these. Saved them from a high school trip to Italy. Thought they might come in handy in case you get lost over there.

S.