Marissa’s eyes traveled to his maimed hand. She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” she blurted out
Yaakov opened his eyes and checked the time. It was 6:03 a.m.
Marissa had a 7 a.m. – 3 p.m. shift at the NICU today. She was probably packing up her sandwiches in the kitchen. He could still say goodbye before heading to shul.
Funny, he wasn’t hearing the cheerful, tuneless humming that usually signified Marissa was working in the kitchen. He swiftly dressed, slipped his feet into his shoes, and walked quietly down the hall.
Marissa was standing silently at the counter, spreading tuna over a slice of spelt bread. The hospital offered its staff plenty of fresh food, but Marissa preferred to prepare her sandwiches at home — she was very particular about the ratio of mayonnaise to tuna.
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