He knew that the man at the other end of the line was thinking, Shuey Portman, Shuey Portman, Shuey Portman… I know that name from somewhere
huey Portman knew what time it was and he knew that he had to go to work, but he was pretending that he didn’t. In five more minutes, he would head off down New Hampshire Avenue, his heart sinking a bit lower every mile, before he finally pulled into the long driveway behind the warehouse. He would sit in his car for another few minutes listening to music, then sigh and shuffle across the cracked pavement into the sales office, where he would sit behind a messy desk and count down the hours till the end of the day.
He could be forgiven for lingering over his breakfast, right?
Henny wasn’t in a chatty mood, so he reached for the mail, looking for something to do as he played with his Fiber One, a cereal he hated, but which made him feel like he had a handle on his life. He didn’t get to the gym or run for any organizations, but at least he could eat a healthy breakfast.
Bills, receipts, a glossy brochure for a kriah specialist who could “teach your child to see!!!”; a bar mitzvah invitation; and yet another free newspaper, this one with a special kids section, three pages filled with color pictures of gedolim, a column called “Talking Truth about Tech” and another one on “Lakewood Vendors, Up Close and Personal.”
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