“Remember the big fire?” he asked her, and her neck moved stiffly, clinching to her sleep.

Three boys in the back row burst into roaring laughter, interrupting his yearning thoughts. One of them was playing music from his cell phone, which gradually took over the rear of the bus. Sammy tried to parse the words but failed. He wasn’t keen on confrontations, but fearing the noise would wake Lilian, he turned and shot them a look.

“How about being quiet?” he asked, hoping they didn’t notice the slight tremor in his voice. The boy with the cell phone turned off the music, then broke into a defiant hum. Sammy went back to gazing out the window, but couldn’t calm down.

The bus weaved into the city that used to be their home and passed by the white bridge. Sammy, who had prepared himself for this moment, took a yellow disposable camera out of his pocket and tried to capture the large structure in its lens. But only three days later, when the photos were finally developed, would he discover that the bridge had eluded him, and in its place appeared the congested intersection at the entrance of the city, and the reflection of a yawning man who sat in front of them.

The bus entered the central station; the passengers began to pile out, among them the teenagers who patted Sammy on the back and wished him a good day. The bustle of passengers woke Lilian and she opened her eyes slowly. Her eyes were a chestnut brown, and Sammy often wondered if they hadn’t grown bigger over the years. Her hair and dark skin were also painted shades of brown, and he once told her that it was only because of her that he learned how much depth could be found in one color.

“Where are we, Sammy?” she asked; he didn’t answer. She rose slowly, revealing a small bald patch in the middle of her scalp. Sammy quickly tousled her hair and hoped no one on the emptying bus had noticed.

Only when she asked again did he tell her they had reached Jerusalem, adding in an undertone that he couldn’t keep reminding her over and over.

They hobbled off the bus. A young woman in a Bnei Akiva shirt offered assistance, but Sammy waved her away. Sammy and Lilian had shrunk over the years and were now nearly swallowed up by the masses. Pressed against each other they traversed the station, overcoming stairs, elevators, and slippery tiles until they reached the entrance to Jaffa Road. They inched toward the door and all at once the early August sun caught Lilian off guard.

“I’m cold, Sammy,” she said, and sidled up against him. “The snow must be coming.”