HE WAS WAITING for her at the entrance to the station. She didn’t notice him at first, was busy studying her reflection in her cell phone screen. He let out a little cough and she jumped, startled and then embarrassed by the situation. They were silent for a few moments, and he kept staring at her.

“Nice dress,” he said.

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied. “It’s the last time I’m wearing it.”

He hesitated before reaching out and brushing his hand over her hair. There was a certain measure of awe in his touch. She liked it.

“You got a haircut,” she said. His short hair made him look more serious. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him. It had been years since someone had hugged her like that. Tightly. Not her exes, not her friends, not her family. They stood there for a few moments. When he let go of her, she wished he hadn’t. He picked up her suitcase. “Heavy,” he remarked as they descended the staircase.

They headed out of the station and started walking. Tamara was hoping his apartment was close by; she felt as if she had flown halfway across the world.

“We’ll just take two photos for Facebook and then go grab a bite.”

“Can’t it wait till tomorrow?” she asked and let out a giant yawn, but he said that unfortunately there was no time to waste. He explained that the first few hours of the disappearance were critical, since no one had any reason to question it yet. He then told her there were a few places in Hadera that if you photograph them at the right angle and crop part of the background, looked exactly like Berlin.

“If only the people of Hadera knew,” she said.

He smiled.

She considered whether to continue objecting, but curiosity got the better of her.

Not far from the train station there was a stone wall covered in oversized graffiti art.

“What, like the Berlin Wall?” she scoffed. “Listen, it looks nothing like it.”

“Wait,” he said, lowering the suitcase next to a big rock and waving her to follow. He stopped in front of a big drawing of Bob Marley with his eyes closed.

“You’ve thought of everything,” she said, and he smiled contentedly, pointing at the word Legende that appeared next to the painting.

“Why is it misspelled?”

“It’s in German,” he explained. He asked her for her phone, then positioned her with her back to the wall, took a few steps back, and photographed her against the painting.

“Give us a real smile,” he asked, and she said it was difficult to smile when she was afraid of stepping in dog poop.

“We have each other,” he said, and when she looked at the photo she realized he was right. It was awfully easy to create the illusion of happiness.