Smadar looks at Margalit. “What should I write? The Jewish story? The history of the Jews?”
“Let’s make a list of what we know,” Smadar finally says.
“You love lists, that’s so you.” Margalit chuckles, then bites her lower lip when she sees a strange expression cross her cousin’s face.
“So me? What does that mean? I barely know what’s me, how can you possibly know?”
Margalit holds Smadar’s gaze. “Because.”
“Because? Just because?” Smadar’s voice seems to rise an octave from one word to the next.
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