Eleni
We pull up to a gated neighborhood—a tall gate, but not one that looks particularly sturdy or difficult to climb, and Dante waves a plastic card at a man sitting in a booth outside. The man smiles and presses a button to open the gate. I expected Dante to have security, but I didn’t expect his security to look like a rent-a-cop. I frown as he drives inside.
The houses past the gate shock me even further. They’re bigger than the apartment Mama, Baba, Christos, and I shared, bigger than anything I’ve seen in the city, but they still look…normal. Two stories. A few big, dramatic windows here and there, but only on a few of the houses. Sizable yards, but not big enough for anything more than a nice patio and a swing set. And there are more houses than I thought, too. A couple dozen, al
