A little girl detached herself from the café crowd, running between tables and chairs to join them. Without a word, he scooped her up and put her in his lap. His knee bounced her absently, and the girl laid her head on the big man’s chest. It was a strange image, like a lamb curling up next to a bear. Vlora found the girl almost as interesting as the man – she was dressed as a boy, a shifty, watchful look in her eye that Vlora had seen in every mirror when she was that age. She was an orphan; a street child.
