“My stomach. It’s really bothering me.” It was really bothering me. The pain was getting worse
It was just a stomachache. I was an 11-year-old boy, much too old and mature to complain about a “sore tummy.” Instead, I took a drink of water and tried to find a comfortable position. The pain wasn’t terrible, and I continued reading. Eventually my mother came downstairs, gave everyone their Erev Shabbos treat, and, as the sun moved lower in the sky, lit the Shabbos candles.
By the time she finished lighting and turned around to wish us good Shabbos, my stomach was really hurting. I guess Ima noticed, because she said, “Noach, what’s wrong?”
I winced and gingerly touched my stomach. “My stomach. It’s really bothering me.” It was really bothering me. The pain was getting worse.
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