In the kitchen my grandmother, Baba Dana, is shouting again. She’s talking with her hands over us kids, over our heads. She’s saying to my Auntie Sveta, “Well, well. Leni’s back.” I didn’t even notice she was gone. I don’t really notice Leni that much. Leni’s just Nikki’s older sister, almost a big person. And if I ever go to their place, which is only two doors down, it’s to jump on the trampoline with Nikki. Or to run with Nikki’s dog. Or to bounce a ball on the brick wall outside and catch it while Nikki counts how many…

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