Andy pulled around and stopped in front of the grocery store to pick up the milk and bread and such that his wife had asked for when he had called. He...stepped through the front door, and the first person he saw was Jason, a sixteen-year-old boxboy, on his way out the door, pushing a shopping cart full of groceries. Right behind him was the customer whose cart he was pushing, a cute little mommy and her 14-year-old daughter. As each of the three passed within inches of Andy, they felt an odd. I was a youth of only sixteen, on board a smallvessel from Venice, when I was captured by a Turkish ship in theAdriatic. Now, two years later, I was a man, shaggy and bearded, cladin rags. My hands were callused over, my skin was burned by the sun,but I was lean and fit. "What is your name?" I asked." I am calledGiovanni." Bleakly I remembered that I had not been called much by thatname since my capture. Galley slaves had little use of names."I am called Ali," he smiled wryly. "Yes, I was given. More

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