“Oh, come on, Miriam,” I said, exasperatedly. “The Arabs are not dangerous here. They’re just… neighbors"
“A letter from who?” I asked, peering at the envelope in Mama’s hand.
“I’ll show you when Elka gets inside. We’ll all look at it together,” Mama answered.
“Aww, please? Can’t I see it?” I begged, reaching forward, but stopping myself before I snatched it out of Mama’s hand. If I did that, Mama would be really angry. And besides, I was a yeshivah bochur now — I was learning with the bochurim. “Do you think Elka will be back before I have to leave?” I asked worriedly.
Mama stood up from her seat at the table. “Where did you last see her? I’ll go bring her inside.” And before I could answer, Mama was across the room and opening the door of the apartment.
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