I ran as fast and hard as I could, twisting through alleyways only a Yerushalmi would know, hoping to lose the men I imagined were following closely behind me
“GO away, Yisroel,” I muttered, pushing him away from the table where I was practicing safrus. Zalman had left. He was visiting his uncle, which was all well and good for him, but it left me completely stuck. I crumpled the paper in frustration. “This is no good,” I grumbled.
“Can you pick up your feet — I’m trying to sweep here.” Miriam poked my legs with the broom and tried sweeping under the table, annoyance in her voice. Since Elka left she’s been annoyed all the time. She doesn’t have patience for anything.
“Well, excuse me,” I huffed, and stood up, marching towards the door. If they didn’t want me here, I might as well go out. Maybe find Yitzchok or Zev and get something done for a change.
“At least take Yisroel with you if you’re going to leave,” Miriam called after me. But I ignored her and slammed the door loudly behind me. Let Miriam take care of him. I had more important things to do.
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