Amir pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped into the negotiation hall. Two representatives sat at opposite ends of a long table, neither looking at the other. The room smelled of old paper and floor wax. A grandfather clock ticked steadily overhead. Amir set his leather folio on the empty chair between them.
Amir spread the treaty documents across the table. "We cannot accept this boundary," one representative said, pointing to a line. "Then we cannot sign," the other replied, tapping a pen against the wood. Click. Click. Click. Amir picked up the nearest document and set it down again.
Amir noticed something wedged under the treaty. A folded piece of paper, its edges soft from being handled. He reached for it and unfolded it carefully.
It was a child's drawing of two olive trees with a fence between them. Each side was labeled in careful letters. A small bird painted on the branch of each tree. Amir held the paper up so both representatives could see it.
"My grandfather planted those trees," the elderly man said quietly. He traced the edge of the drawing with his finger. "He used to say the birds from one tree would visit the other."
Amir slid a fresh page toward the center of the table. He uncapped his pen and set it beside the paper. The elderly man picked it up first and signed his name.
The elderly woman picked up a pen and signed her name. Amir watched the ink dry on the last signature. The grandfather clock chimed once, deep and clear.
The room grew quiet. The clock settled back into its steady tick. On the table, between the two representatives, the treaty lay open and signed. Amir closed his leather folio.
