““She daydreamed, walking head down on the dusty sidewalk of Ambelokipi toward her hotel, about escaping. How would she frame it, how would she tell Nate she wanted him to take her to America, right now, and put her in a house near a lake surrounded by pine trees, a house with a fireplace, and make slow love in the mornings? You’re a little genius, she thought. A real dreamer. Who are you kidding? This deep-freeze existence of hers would continue until she died, exposed by a traitor, or shot by a sniper, or butchered by a maniac assassin. Marta walked beside her, smoking and looking at the young men on the sidewalk. Clear your mind, she told her, concentrate, love your man, and don’t be afraid.””