Brothers

A Short Story

in European Judaism

He climbs the stairs. I know him by his tread. My brother! The door creaks a little as he pushes it. Now he steps inside and says hello. He stands by the door and looks round. What a funny place to be, he says. Not the house, he adds. The house is very nice. Very nice indeed, as far as I can judge. But why do you sit here in the dusk like that? I knew it was you, I tell him. He comes forward into the room. There is nowhere for him to sit.