He removed a couple of floor tiles to reveal the dark maw of a cubbyhole, a hidden pantry that, for a year, had sustained life. He pulled out a bottle of wine, a candle and a nub of cheese. What a feast, said Ulysses, and he reached around and retrieved a tin of ham from his pack and placed it on the table. That’s when Arturo began to cry. It’s only ham, said Ulysses. And for two hours the wine was poured, the cheese cut, and the two men talked. Of what? Who knows? Of love, of war, of the past. And
