Strangers
Published in Issue #23 Translated from Hebrew by Yardenne Greenspan subscribe to unlock the full storyDaylight savings time ended, and it got dark early. I don’t like the dark, but at least it’s easy to disappear in it. I walked fast, as if I had to be someplace, like at the dentist’s. I crossed Rabin Square, which was empty save for three elderly men on a bench and a few hungry pigeons. The autumn breeze caressed my legs and rose up under my skirt and into my underwear. Once upon a time, when I’d just moved here, before I met Shauli, I would lie naked on the roof, spreading my legs, letting the wind caress my body on the inside.
I tried to walk faster, but I started panting. I asked myself, What are you doing? Ever since Shauli left, all you do is wander. And when you aren’t wandering, you’re lying on the mattress in the corner of the room, the mattress that had absorbed all your juices, with your hand on the emptiest spot in your body. You can’t keep going like this, you’ve got to start recuperating. A woman walked in my direction, pushing a baby stroller. She was also moving quickly, probably afraid the baby would catch a cold. I started to cry. The phone used to ring at this exact time every day, and Shauli’s voice, quiet and low, would say, Come over. And I would.
Lights went on in store windows, the clothes and shoes and books all carefully arranged. I thought, Why don’t you go in, buy yourself something new?...
Subscribe now to keep reading
Please enter your email to log in or create a new account.