摘要：He woke to these words: 'The gift has been given'. But the day doesn't stop for voices. He had things to do, a living to make. This was just something else to be ignored. He was good at ignoring things. Taking his lunch through the old market to the dockside, he readied himself to call the voice to account should it interrupt him again. It had seemed to carry an undisclosed instruction. Fine. But what. And what was he supposed to do about it. The boy when Ricco first saw him was standing looking out over the water in a classic attitude of loss, very still, hands at his sides, gazing a little downwards. 'My ball', he said, pointing towards the harbour. Ricco was on the point of saying there were plenty of other balls in the world, but he didn't believe it. There was no ball like the ball you'd just lost. That was the one you really wanted. As he watched, the boy made a fist and rubbed an eye with the back of his hand ¨C a profile of loss transformed into an icon of grief
