““Something came for you in the mail,” she says, sliding a small envelope across the counter. “From Italy.” I snatch it and study the handwriting. It’s not Chiara’s. Pulse pounding in my ears, Morgan and I race back upstairs and shut the door to my bedroom. “Open it, open it!” Morgan chants. “Who’s it from?” “I have no idea.” I tear at the thin envelope and pull out a 4X6 photo. It’s me, my profile. Eyes wide in wonder, lips slightly parted in awe. “Get. Out. This was the moment I first saw the Colosseum.” “What?” She looks at the photo. “Who took that?” There’s nothing else inside the envelope. I turn the photo over and we read the note on the back written in small, careful handwriting. I miss you, Pipperoni. -Darren ””
