“Many are filled with anger, for that is the only force they find to sustain themselves”

 The blue brocade gown is in her left hand. The small brown leather rectangle that is her forged passport is in his right hand. They both hesitate, waiting for the other to proffer their part of the deal.

Becca stares ahead, defiantly, determined not to give over the payment he required of her before she receives the precious goods. The room is already stuffy, though it’s early in the morning and still cool outside.

She looks around. The window is open, but is covered in thick blinds, to do some kind of hopeless battle with the sun. At her feet, one of the twins crawls towards them. The baby stops when it reaches her and tugs on the fabric of her dress. She can’t help but smile, even as she hopes the baby’s hands are not sticky.

Abu Khamir flips the passport back onto his desk, leans down and picks up the baby.

Suddenly tired, Becca lays the blue gown over a nearby chair. She reaches over to the desk and picks up the passport. Her fingers press against the leather. Finally.

She smiles. Her passport. She has a passport. She stands up straighter. Surely, she is taller. Surely, she has grown in the last few seconds, with this key back to Europe, to home. Her skirts will be unfashionably short, a whole inch above her ankle, and as soon as she gets back to Paris she will commission some more.

“They say that soon no one will need these.” Abu Khamir has a squint. He looks up at her quickly, as if it is immodest to do so, and then turns his attention back to the baby. “Passports will be abolished. All citizens of the great, wide world can travel as they wish.”

The baby pulls at his father’s beard, and instead of swatting away the little fingers, he catches them and blows lightly, so that the baby erupts into laughter.

“That will be bad for you,” she says.

He shrugs. “My artwork will always be in demand, for one certificate or another. Bad for you, though.”

She shakes her head, not understanding. What could be better than simply boarding a ship, heading home, without hindrance, without worrying about documentation? A free citizen of the world, as he said.

“There will be nothing to stop more of you coming. Jews. Jew girls.”

Fraydel’s golden hair. Raizel’s inquisitive eyes.

“There is work here. It is good for them to leave the dangers of Eastern Europe and find work, food, shelter.”

He tips back his head and laughs. Something makes her shiver inside.

“In Turkey, we praise the wind. Without it, how would we bear the blistering sun? The wind is a life flow through the world. This movement of people, it is also a wind. It blows great groups of hundreds and thousands around the planet so they find their destiny.”

She likes his poetry, but wants information. “And what is their destiny?”

He shrugs. “Like all of us, suffering.”

She stiffens. She did not come here to suffer. She came here to create change. If there is discomfort, loneliness, even fear along the way, so be it. They will come along as her fellow travelers, but she will not allow them to distract her from her destination.