Colossal Humility

E
very morning he ate breakfast at the diner across the street from yeshivah.

He would always drink his coffee in a glass swaddled by a metal zarf, and I still remember the way his iconic black-and-white cookie sat in front of him.

At first I was scared to approach him. Then, with time, I found the courage to speak to him.

“Rebbi, can I ask a question?”

He turned to me and with his warm smile said, “Please, sit down, would you like some of my mezonos? I only like the black part, so you can have the white.”