Sarah started toward to the kitchen to give the counters a final wash. She did this every evening, prepare the house for morning. There had to be order in life, Sarah felt strongly. Routine. Otherwise one’s mind wandered.

On the way to the kitchen, Sarah passed her display case, and her chest tightened. Sometimes she wished she could torch that thing—a past strapped to her like ballast. The worst were the mini statues perched so defiantly for over seventy years. There was one of Hades in white stone. Another of a surly-faced Grecian lady, a bust. Sarah called her Dagny. She couldn’t remember when that nickname had arisen, whether she or Sam had coined it. The statutes had once belonged to Sam’s mother. They’d survived the ransacking of Sam’s childhood home after he and his family were taken to Auschwitz. Her own family’s home hadn’t experienced the same fortune. It had been fully appropriated, her past eradicated.

If only erasing the memories were that easy.

Sarah retrieved a sponge from the side of her sink. As she rubbed it across the marble, her eyes latched onto her rosebushes. They were so pretty—bushes seemingly divided, some pink, some purple, but over time, Sarah thought they’d blended, the pink parts acquiring a purplish tint, the purple flowers now rimmed in pink.

Sarah had arrived in Delray seventy-three years before, because Sam had a far-removed cousin who lived in South Florida and secured the permissions they needed to immigrate. But despite living in America the vast majority of her life, Sarah still couldn’t rid herself of Corfu’s long shadow. This she knew even more assuredly given the letter that had arrived in the mail the week before.

Sarah set down the sponge and opened the drawer where she kept miscellaneous things. Carefully, she removed the letter from its envelope covered in foreign stamps and that familiar handwriting—a ghost in Greek cursive.

She took the letter to her computer and navigated to the Facebook using the clicker. She clicked on his picture again. She brought her eyes closer to the screen, closer still, until her forehead brushed the monitor. She stared into those eyes. Those startling green eyes.

Eventually, Sarah leaned back in her chair. She began to type.

Well, hello there, Milos. Hello. Here we are then. A lifetime later, and yet I would recognize you anywhere.