I’ve learned a lot in the last few months. I’m pretty sure I’m not the first person to figure that out. I could say I love it now, I suppose, but love is such a complicated idea. I hated Milan when I first came here: principal city of the Italian north, huge, gray, industrial, possessed of polluted fogs and mad, narcissistic inhabitants. Even when I fear them, I know what to do. I know who is quick and who is dead-and who among the dead does not want to leave.
These days, when I walk into a house, I know at once who waits inside. Sometimes I would go so far as to slip out of my room, past my sister, past my parents snoring down the hall, and check every lock and catch in the house. I used to be the kind of girl who would check under the bed and in the closet every night before going to sleep.
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