Zayn waved at our host. “Palestinian.”
The man nodded. “So, two Americans, a Jew, and a Palestinian in my apartment. Sounds like the beginning of a joke.” He sighed. “But this is not funny this visit of yours.” He again stared my way. “Why does it matter that I am gay?”
I smiled. I stood. I helped him stand. “Do you want to put some clothes on?”
He shrugged. “Why bother now?” His smile mirrored mine. “Horse is already out of the barn, I think you would say.”
Fine by me, I thought. There were worse things to stare at. Like basically everything else around us. Here was a rose in a sea of thorns. “We are archeologists,” I said.
“I thought you were police,” he replied.
“It’s complicated,” said Abe.
“Yes,” said the man. “I can see that.” He held out his hand. “Khalid,” he said as we all
