"It doesn’t matter what seeds you’ve pecked at, or what spring you’ve drunk from. You will always be welcome in this house"

"I don’t get it, all those stories about Siberia,” Lulu grumbled to himself, as he tried to pull the sleeping bag more snugly around him. It was a good sleeping bag, thermal and water-repellant, and the wool coat was thick and well lined, but his feet were still ice-cold. He sighed, opened the sleeping bag, and got up to find another layer from the bundles on the stroller. He pulled out his trusty old comforter, zipped himself back into the sleeping bag, and spread the comforter on top. “How could anyone survive in Siberia where it’s 40 or 50 below zero?” he marveled grimly.

It may not have been Siberia, but the tunnel by the bus station was a veritable icebox. Lulu felt the cold wrapping itself around him like a snake. He got up once again, this time to look for his old army jacket. His teeth were chattering. Where was it? In that white bag from Miki’s Toy Store? Or maybe in the big black bag from the bargain store? Or was it somewhere among all the anonymous bags from the shuk?

The gloves on his hands were making it harder to search. He tried taking off one glove, but within seconds his fingers were stiff. He pulled the glove back on and continued rummaging. He was about to give up when he found the old coat at last.

With slow, clumsy movements, Lulu wrapped the coat around his feet, pushed his feet down into the sleeping bag, and closed the zipper once more. Again, he topped the whole arrangement with the comforter.

The wind outside was howling, tearing limbs from trees and sending corrugated roofs flying away from the balconies they were meant to shelter. In the tunnel by the bus station, under all those layers, Lulu rubbed his hands together and thought desperately about where he could spend the next few days. Nochum Kleiner’s brother-in-law’s father, he should live and be well, had finally gotten around to starting renovations today, of all days. Workers had showed up in the apartment that morning, filling the place with sacks of sand and cement and informing him that he had to leave, because they were about to start breaking down the walls.

Nobody had even thought to let him know ahead of time. He had to gather up his things and vacate the premises while the workers looked on, pitying but impatient. He had plenty of old plastic bags, and he stuffed his clothing and utensils into them, along with whatever food he had. One big, orange bag was crammed into the basket under the stroller, and four more were hung from the handles, two on each side. He folded his sleeping bag and comforter sloppily. Those went on the seat, and on top of them, the rest of the bags. The stroller rocked, threatening to collapse under its burden. Lulu tried redistributing the weight, but the workers had no patience. Lulu was forced out into the unknown.