The stone has crossed most of the lagoon, because you have thrown it that hard, and has touched down at various points over five hundred years. It now makes one final small jump, lands and sinks off the waters of Murano into the present. Orsola Rosso is in her late sixties. She is once more turning in the flame a translucent red bead with flecks of gold leaf suspended in it. Her Antonio bead. She looks up and sees a man…
