Holding Hands

This is a long story, with many complicated details. I couldn’t possibly get it all from my head to the written word, but I will try. The nights in Tzfat were boring for David. He wanted to go somewhere, do something. He wanted adrenaline, but there was only the midrahov, one paved street that circled the mountaintop. We could walk the whole circuit in no time at all. On this particular night, we had been drinking. David suggested we go for a walk in the night air and I would follow him anywhere, anytime. He liked to be prepared (his First

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