“A TIP FOR LIFE.” That was the headline of the newspaper article I had been reading the day it all began. It was about a waitress in the States who received a ten-thousand-dollar check from an old customer, who then killed himself by jumping off a bridge and into the Mississippi River. I hope that before I die someone will solve the mystery of why our minds remember such useless information. Every evening I’d wait for Nelly to bring a copy of Yedioth Ahronoth from Mitzpe. I used to wrap it in a blue plastic bag and put it on the table, saving it for the next morning. Nelly reminded me that I was already reading it after everyone else and didn’t see the point of putting it off even longer, but I had started to like the idea of living in a different time zone from the rest of the world, a day after everyone else. I liked thinking that when time took a right onto the dirt trail by Highway 40, it came for a little R&R. That here it stopped moving forward at a steady pace, knowing that it was allowed to slow down, even move a few minutes backward, sag, or spill sideways.

I don’t remember seeing her walk in. When I raised my head, Shira was already inside the B&B, hanging her black backpack on the hook by the front door.

“Hey, you’re back,” I said.

“Yup.”

“How was school?”

“Fine.”

“Good. Did you learn anything interesting?”

“Not really.”

We were silent for a few moments.

“Want something to eat?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? I can make you a sandwich.”

“I’m sure. Thanks.”

“Okay. Do you have homework?”

“A little.”

“A little is good,” I said. “Time to do it?”

“In a minute.”

“Good, good.”

I went back to the newspaper. Out of the corner of my eye I saw she was still standing there. I looked up and smiled, asked if everything was all right, thinking it might be a good moment to try talking to her. She said everything was fine and even smiled. A small, brief smile. She turned toward her room and I let her go, keeping my eyes on the newspaper even though I couldn’t really concentrate. Five, maybe ten minutes later, I heard the keys rattling in the lock. Nelly had a dinner meeting with a potential client, so she had come home early to get ready. She opened the door and took two steps into the B&B. She dropped her bag and crouched down. For a moment I thought she had fallen, but then I realized—Shira had been there the whole time. Sitting in the corner, by the door, and I hadn’t noticed. Sitting with her back against the wall, her arms slumped to her sides. Her gaze was fixed to the floor, to a nondescript point in space.

“Shirale, what are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” she said.