Ghost Flight: Chapter Twenty-Six

When Petros enters the bungalow where he grew up – the door hangs open, as always – he finds his mother and grandparents at the table, with plates of the leftover soúvla that he made them for Easter. Four days old, now. He says yes to his grandmother’s offer of a portion, instinctively, and grimaces at its rubbery texture. Without looking at what is on his fork, he can’t tell whether it is chicken or pork. Forcing down a half-chewed mouthful, he sits back in his chair.