“Have you gone completely mad?” he yelled, and the girl retreated a few steps. “What’s wrong with you? You’re crazy, you almost murdered a person.” The girl folded her hands behind her back and remained silent, which only vexed him more. “Don’t you have eyes? Do you know how dangerous that was?” he lashed out at her, unleashing his rage.

“Sorry,” the girl said again. “If we could just get the ball back.”

The football was lodged between him and Lilian, a white and sooty patchwork of pentagons and hexagons. He picked up the ball in his trembling hands and intended to return it to the girl, but then looked at Lilian’s face again, more fearful and frozen than he had ever seen it before. Without thinking twice, he took the knife and, with what little strength he had left in him, punctured the ball.

It slowly deflated, fell, and rolled on the ground, stopping at the girl’s feet. She covered her eyes with her hands, but spread her fingers wide enough to peek at the disaster. She began sobbing and a few moments later, turned and ran along the path that surrounded the synagogue. One of the boys yelled, “He’s a murderer!” and then ran away with the rest of the frightened children.

The playing field had emptied. Sammy looked at Lilian. The small bald patch was exposed again. Once more he tried to rearrange her hair, but Lilian refused to lower her hands from her head. She remained folded inside herself, and he no longer had the energy to fight her. They sat like that for some time, until the sun disappeared behind the synagogue. Hugging his satchel in both arms again, he tried to count the leaves on the tree and failed. He took out his camera, gently lifted Lilian’s left hand, and photographed her tired face, telling himself that these moments should be documented too. He then slowly bent down, lifted the fallen orange segment from the ground, took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and started wiping off the grains of sand that clung to the fruit.

“Tomorrow they’ll come take you,” he said.

“To the beach?”

“There are people who can take care of you better than I can.”

“Where’s the snow, Sammy?”

“I’ll come visit every day.”

She leaned forward. Her eyes remained closed.

“I can smell the sea, can you?”