Serah
Published in Issue #26 Translated from Hebrew by Yaron Regev subscribe to unlock the full story“How long does it take for that cow to take down the trash?” Sabah mutters as he shuffles to the door. A cold draft buffets him as he bends to pick up the newspaper. He shoves the doormat half inside the apartment so the door won’t slam shut, and peeks over the stair rail, expecting to see her humped back, split by the thin braid, orange from the henna dye she uses, coming up the stairs.
He looks down at the newspaper and tries to read it, the letters darting in front of his eyes. Perhaps she has gone to open the grocery store early without telling him? Or to the market? But he knows she would never leave the house without waking Yakub first.
What if she has fallen and fainted in the garbage room? Reluctantly he rises, dresses, and makes his way down to the garbage room. Trash containers block the opening. A sour smell strikes his nostrils as his hand fumbles for the light switch.
The garbage room is empty.
He turns on his heels and starts back up the stairwell. Lulu, his neighbor, opens her door a crack. When she recognizes him, the door quickly opens wider. “Good morning, Sabah,” she says coyly, and in the same breath asks, “Where did Serah go so early this morning? I saw her through the window getting on a bus. And what was she doing with a trash bag in her hand? What’s happened to her?”
Sabah stops for a moment, his voice betrays him. Heavily, he continues his climb...
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