“I’m— the drums aren’t toys,” he says, almost defensively. “They’re— I can’t have anyone touching them. I think I’ll have to keep the study door locked, I should have thought of that already.”
T here is a series of erratic thuds coming from the downstairs study. Disturbing. Mendel looks up from his sefer finger tightening over the place.
It couldn’t be—
A clatter like something (something?!) has fallen to the tiled floor. Mendel bolts to his feet.
“Esther? Who’s in the study?”
From the kitchen running water and the hum of the microwave preclude any reply. Leaving the question hanging in the air he dashes down to the basement to find out for himself.
There is no one in the house. Only him and Esther Chaim and Gittel — and of course Yisroel Meir.
Create a free account to keep reading.
