Always, the subject of Shuey’s job was taboo. They could talk about anything, but not that
“What’s with you? Why aren’t you pumped?” Boruch Zeldman frowned.
Dovi Korman was playing with a straw, looking straight down into his pepper steak.
“No reason. Maybe just bummed out that bein hazmanim is over, you know?”
Zeldman snorted. “Oh, please, it’s not just today and you know it. On Chol Hamoed, you scowled the whole time at the park, and that was after we had to beg you to come. You were all moody. What’s the deal, Dov Ber?”
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