“Private Dobri!” she finally called out. The soldier, a little man with an oversize nose and long fingers, leapt a foot into the air. He whirled toward Vlora, attempting to hide the box behind his back. “Ma’am!” he said, snapping a salute and managing to drop the box. A few cups and a load of silverware spilled onto the street. Vlora eyed him for a long moment, letting him stew in his discomfort.
