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WE’RE ALL HUMAN

It didn’t. All the passengers, including the albino, had already gone. The empty luggage carousel revolved for another few minutes, then got tired and stopped. A Continental ground-service employee said that she was very sorry and wrote down his hotel address. “It’s very rare,” she said, “but mistakes do happen. We’re all human, you know.” Maybe. Even though there were moments when Gershon felt he wasn’t. For instance, when Eran died in his arms in Laniado Hospital. If Gershon had been human, he probably would have cried or collapsed. People close to him told him that he just hadn’t taken it in yet, he needed time; that it wouldn’t hit him till he understood it with his heart, not just his brain. But ten years had passed since then and nothing had hit him. In the army, when they wouldn’t let him go into officer training, he’d cried like a girl. He remembered how the company’s sergeant major had stared at him in helpless shock, but when his best friend died, nothing.

“We will of course compensate you with one hundred and twenty dollars against a bill for clothes and personal items,” the ground employee said.

“Personal items,” Gershon repeated.

She took the repetition as a question. “You know, a toothbrush, shaving cream. It’s all spelled out on the back of the form.” She pointed to the right place on the page and added, “I am really and truly sorry.”

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