Our waiter’s name was Dekel. He had the most amazing eyelashes I’ve ever seen and was friends with the lady I was traveling with.

While they caught up I ate a small piece of perfection in the form of a chocolate croissant.

The morning sunlight reflecting off the creamy Jerusalem limestone was warm like the hug of a long-lost friend, and I could’ve died happily then, but I’m glad I didn’t, because that afternoon we wound through the maze of the Old City’s Arab Quarter to eat hummus and pita as perfect as my croissant, as perfect as Dekel’s eyelashes.

© Copyright 2021 by Jim Latham

Photo by Sander Crombach on Unsplash