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The Brothers Ashkenaziby I. J. Singer
The children loved the yard, no one more so than Jacob Bunem.
“Sima Meir,” he would cry in a loud voice that expressed his lust for life, “come play tag.”
“I don’t want to,” Simha Meir would say brusquely and turn away.
The twins didn’t get along.
Jacob Bunem would have preferred it otherwise. He was bigger, stronger, full of laughter.
“Jacob Bunem, why do you always laugh?” others asked.
“Cause I feel like it,” he would say, and laugh again so that the others felt compelled to join in.
He put his whole heart and soul into the childish games. No one could run faster, or find better hiding places in the foundation when they played hide and seek, or catch the ends of the cord the roper dragged through the courtyard. He could excavate the biggest rocks and raise them overhead. He never grew tired of the games. Not only did he enjoy playing, but he wanted everyone, especially his brother, to do the same. But Simha Meir would have none of it.
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