"What’s there to explain? It’s embarrassing, it’s disappointing, it’s frustrating, concerning. That’s not enough?”

Avrumi was being too quiet. I picked up a half of a slice of tomato and covered my mouth with it, then made my eyes go wide to complete the look. He looked up from his lunch and didn’t even crack a smile. Maybe I should’ve used cucumber slices for eyes.
“Is someone dying? Am I in trouble? Are you dying so therefore I’m in trouble?” I asked.
He finally cracked half a smile at my last line.
“It’s Chaim.”
I looked back at my plate. The cheese in my pita pizza had congealed. Gross.
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.