“When you left on Monday, I was so angry, I didn’t give you a chance to explain”
The laundry, my hair — bozhe moy — the fridge.
Before my brain could register that my boss was standing at my door and what in the world is she doing here, I whipped around to the kitchen, which was in full view from the apartment’s entrance, and cast a frantic glance at the fridge.
My stomach sank. It was open.
I’d been begging Benish to organize his food magazines and get rid of some so the fridge could actually close, but no, he kept stuffing more and more inside, revealing that our fridge was not a fridge but a mini library, and announcing to Yocheved that there was no food in the house.
“I called on my way over,” Yocheved began awkwardly. “There was no answer. I just wanted to drop this off, you left it in the boutique…?”
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