The grave is plain and simple. The natural stone slab is beginning to take on a patina, with greening at the corners. In the center of the rectangular headstone erected perpendicular to the slab, a name is engraved in capital letters: “PALMER”. At the very bottom of the headstone, in smaller letters, on the left reads: “Orpah 1967 – 2010” and on the right: “Jethro 1929 – 2012”. Head bowed, eyes closed, fingers intertwined at stomach level, Ohad recites a short prayer in an almost inaudible voice, of which B., standing slightly back, can only grasp the conclusion. “He’s not here; he’s risen, just as he said he would ”. Then he turns to the cop: “Are your parents still with you, Commissioner?”
“No, they ‘re not.” B.’s eyes linger on the inscriptions at the bottom of the stele.
“She was much younger than him, is that what you’re thinking?”
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