Hassan placed the flashlight on the ground, squatted by the pit, and looked at the half-decayed face. One eye was still intact, gray and cloudy, like the winter ice on Lake Tiberias.
"Mahmoud," he whispered, "I found you."
He took out a piece of white cloth from his pocket and spread it beside the pit. Then he jumped into the pit, squatted down, and began picking up the bones one by one, placing them on the white cloth.
His hands trembled, the bones felt light in his hands, like dried twigs. Ribs, spine, pelvis, thigh bones, calf bones, toe bones — piece by piece, he picked them all up. Lastly, the skull. He held the skull, gazing at its dark, hollow eye sockets.
"Mahmoud, I'm taking you home."
