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to be a long time before he sought the companionship of another woman.
    Rachel’s father had abandoned her mother when shewas a child, and Alex had stepped in, becoming much more to her than an uncle. Now she was glad to keep him company and enjoy the inviolability the building’s doorman plus her uncle’s round-the-clock security system gave her.
    Without realizing it, Rachel got used to the companionship, and in the past two days since Alex had left for a week-long business trip to London and Milan, she’d had trouble getting to sleep. Having given up for the night, she was in bed with the lights on, simultaneously watching an old movie on television, sipping a glass of white wine and reading the next morning’s news on her laptop.
    Tomb Belongs to Vestal Virgin
    By Charlie Billings
    Rome, Italy
    It was confirmed yesterday that the recent excavation outside of the city gates is believed to be the burial site of one of ancient Rome’s last Vestal Virgins.
    â€œWe were fairly certain that the tomb dated back to the late fourth century, specifically from 390 to 392 A.D. The pottery and other artifacts we’ve found further bears this out. Barring any more surprises, we believe the woman buried here was a Vestal,” said Gabriella Chase, professor of archeology at Yale University, a specialist in ancient religions and languages, who, along with Professor Aldo Rudolfo from the University of Rome La Sapienz, has been working at sites in this area for three years.
    â€œWhat makes this particular excavation especially exciting is that the woman buried here may be one of the last six Vestals,” Chase said. “After more than a thousand years, the cult of the Vestals came to anend in 391 A.D., coincident with the rise of Christianity under the reign of Emperor Theodosius.”
    The noise emanating from the television disappeared. The lights in the bedroom dimmed. Rachel tried to keep reading, tried to stay in bed, feel the sheets under her hands, pillows at her back, but deep inside of her, her heart fluttered, raced; the promise of understanding gave her a physical thrill. A whole world that she didn’t know anything about presented itself like an uncut diamond. All she needed to do was step forward and explore it.
    Entering, she was bedazzled by a scene that glittered in hyper-realistic sunshine. Warmth surrounded her and held her, cosseting her like a summer wind. Comforted and excited at the same time. The radiance was inside her now, and she felt light, so light she was flying, moving faster and faster and at the same time aware of each sensation as if it was happening in very slow motion.
    The sun burned her cheeks. The smell of the heat filled her nostrils. Her body hummed as if she were an instrument someone played. She heard music, but it didn’t have anything to do with tones or keys or chords or melody. It was pure rhythm. Her heart changed its beat to keep pace. Her breathing altered to the new timing.
    Then it was cold. Shivering, she peered through a glass door, through a crack in the curtains, spying on two men, both hunched over a desk.
    â€œThis is what I came to Rome for. What I gave up hope I’d ever find,” said the one she knew well, though she couldn’t remember his name.
    Then she saw the magic colored stones and their reflections. Flashes of blue and green lights filled her with a desperate pleasure. It was a drug. She wanted to stand there and try to understand how they melded into eachother, creating a hundred new shades: a rainbow of emerald melting into peacock blue melting into cobalt melting into sea green melting into sage melting into teal, into red, burgundy and crimson.
    â€œThis is important, a real find.” The man’s voice was hard like the edges of the stones and she felt little cuts on her skin where his words touched her. She didn’t care if she bled. She wanted to be part of this moment and this pain and this