Bagels This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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     It was August. I was taking a fashion design and sewing class in downtown Jerusalem that I liked a lot even though I wasn't doing very well. One day, my mother asked me to pick up some bagels on my way home.

So, after class, I walked to the bagel store, smiled at the man in front of the restaurant playing his saxophone, and dropped a coin into his case.

I bought five plain and two with everything bagels and walked up the street to the bus stop. The bus came within minutes and I went home.

Twenty minutes later, my father called from work, asking where I was. My mom laughed and replied, "She's here, and don't worry - she got the bagels."

"Turn on the television," my dad replied in a serious voice. Apparently he hadn't called about bagels.

"Oh, my God," I heard her say. When I looked at the screen I saw the same store downtown I'd been at, but it was nothing like 20 minutes be-fore. A suicide bomber had attacked, killing many and wounding even more. The restaurant was blown up and the streets were filled with ambulances and police. I felt tears in my eyes. I couldn't believe I had been there less than half an hour earlier! I felt a chill race down my spine as I thought about the man playing the saxophone.

That Sunday I went back to class, scared but prepared, and walked by the restaurant on my way home. It had yellow tape around it and I began crying. People were standing around me, looking at the destroyed room, crying and placing flowers in front of the building. I walked by, glanced at the saxophone player's spot for a moment, and walked down the street to the bus stop.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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