The bus left Aqaba after sunset carrying five passengers and a driver. Halfway down the desert road, at the kilometer marker with no sign and no house nearby, the engine gave a long sigh and died.

The driver, Abu Eisa, said as he climbed down with his flashlight, "Pump trouble. I'll try to fix it, but it might take a while to reach the workshop."

On the bus sat an old man named Hajj Salem, in the back seat, clutching a long wooden box shut with a brass clasp. A young nurse named Dua, in her blue uniform, carrying a small bag. A university student named Mu'min, earphones in his ears. A silent woman in her forties, holding her bag between her knees. And a nervous young man in his twenties named Ramez, who hadn't stopped checking his phone or jittering his leg since he'd boarded.

Half an hour into the breakdown, thoughts began stirring in the dark.

Mu'min whispered to Dua, "Look at that box the old man has. He hasn't let go of it once."

Dua said, "It's his. It's his business."

"And what's in it? He won't open it, won't set it down. And that nervous guy — don't you feel like he's hiding something too?"

Dua said, "We're all just tired."

But the idea had already taken root. An hour later, Mu'min was speaking louder. He said the whole thing was suspicious, that it would be better to call the police. Then he said everyone had a right to know what was in that box.

Hajj Salem looked at him slowly. He said calmly, "Son, if you're afraid, ask me. Don't ask the dark about me."

Ramez suddenly stood up. His face was pale and his hands were shaking. He said in a choked voice, "Please... I need help."

Mu'min stepped back. But Dua moved toward him at once and asked, "What's wrong?"

With a trembling hand, Ramez opened his small bag and pulled out an insulated case holding a small vial. He said, "This is my father's medicine. Insulin. It has to stay cold. The ice melted two hours ago, and I'm on my way to him because of it. If it spoils, I won't be able to get more before morning... and my father's condition doesn't wait."

The whole bus fell silent.

Dua examined the vial under the flashlight's beam and said in a professional tone, "Give it to me." She touched the case, felt the glass. "It hasn't spoiled yet. The night here is very cold. Put it in a plastic bag, and set the bag on the shaded side of the bus, out of the direct air. Don't let it freeze. I'll watch it with you."

Ramez went with Dua to the cool side of the bus, and they tucked the case into a sheltered spot. They sat beside it, looking up at the stars.

Mu'min stood alone. Then he said quietly, "I thought you were... I'm sorry."

Ramez said, "It's fine. No one looks normal when they're scared."

At that moment Hajj Salem said, "All that's left for us now is to wait. And I know how to make it easier." He stood up, undid the brass clasp with his weathered hands, and opened the lid.

Inside the box lay an old oud, its wood gleaming, inlaid with delicate mother-of-pearl.

The old man said, "This is my father's oud. I've carried it with me for forty years. I don't set it on the ground because its wood is afraid of damp." He smiled and added, "And it won't explode, don't worry."

Everyone laughed for the first time, after having held their breath for so long. Even the silent woman laughed, which startled them all.

Hajj Salem sat on the bus's step and began to play. The first note was slow, then it dipped and rose until it filled the desert. The silent woman sang a verse in a deep voice no one had expected. Dua hummed along with her. Even Mu'min pulled out his earphones and sat listening.

An hour before dawn, a repair truck arrived from the workshop. The pump was fixed in twenty minutes, and the bus moved again.

Ramez reached the hospital in Amman at eight in the morning. The insulin vial was fine. Before he got off, he turned to the other passengers and said, "Thank you."

Hajj Salem said, "Thank the road. It's what brought us together."

Mu'min stayed in his seat until everyone else had gotten off, then looked out the window at the step where the old man had sat playing. For the first time in years, he found himself wishing he could learn a musical instrument.