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I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to

Once they’re outside, Gilad puts Hillel down on the sidewalk and says in a fairly quiet tone, “Which bus?” And as Hillel goes right on muttering, he repeats his question louder: “Which bus?” Hillel stops, opens his eyes, gives Gilad a penetrating look, and says, “A big blue bus.” Gilad nods and, trying to sound completely normal, completely without tears, he asks whether it matters which number the bus has. And Hillel smiles and shakes his head.

They walk toward Dizengoff Street and wait at the bus stop. The first one that arrives is red. They don’t get on. But right after that another one pulls up. It’s big and blue. Bus number 1 to Abu Kabir. While Gilad buys the ticket, Hillel waits patiently, the way he promised he would, and then makes his way carefully down the aisle, holding on to the poles. They sit down in the back, next to each other. The bus is completely empty. Gilad tries to remember the last time he was in Abu Kabir. It was when he was still doing his internship and someone in the office sent him to the Forensic Institute there to photocopy an autopsy report. That was before he realized that criminal law was not for him. Hillel wanted to know if this bus went to the kindergarten and Gilad said more or less, or that metaphorically speaking it did, eventually. If Hillel had asked what metaphorically meant, the way he sometimes did when he came across words like that, he’d have a problem. But Hillel didn’t ask. He just put his little hand on Gilad’s thigh and looked out the window. Gilad leaned back, shut his eyes, and tried not to think about anything. The wind through the open window was strong, but not too strong. His body was breathing slowly and his lips weren’t moving at all, but in his heart he kept saying: “I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to I want to.”


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