Maybe it was easier to miss her when she was gone, than live with her. Maybe he is ashamed of his shtetl wife
I
t’s not far to the Old Town Square, where the astronomical clock looks upon them from on high. There is always a crowd that gathers as the clock prepares to strike the hour. At eleven o’clock in the morning, they’re lucky that the gathering is relatively sparse.
The boy’s mother had been reluctant to let them go, but Mama had pushed, gently. “Let him go and see Prague,” she had said. The woman had shaken her head.
Mama, unusually, had persisted. “You need a little peace. Have a rest while I do some tidying.”
A long hesitation. Mama had signaled to Felix and he had held out the pencil and notebook for the child, who had accepted them with glee.
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