“How do you do it? I mean don’t you feel stifled? Sweaty? Do you ever eat? I’ve never so much as seen you even adjust your mask”
This part is always awkward.
“Hello, it’s Chava,” I say into the general hubbub.
They don’t hear.
Over static and crying babies and running water, I try to catch the drift of the conversation. Something about increased restrictions. What else is new?
“My husband’s sister is getting married in two days, I can’t believe we’re still in Israel,” Fraida is saying.
Someone — Ruchi? — says, “Ooh, Fraida, what are you doing?”
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