“A sock isn’t a woman,” Chanochi announces. “It can’t be an agunah.”
With Mount Meron
looming outside their window, Yoeli and Leiky are doing their best to put together a decent supper of leftovers.
Yoeli brushes olive oil and crushed garlic over the tail ends of the bread they ate with butter earlier. He toasts them in the little sandwich maker they brought with them. Leiky freshens up the leftover salad with some chopped onion and tosses it with a bit more seasoning.
“A gourmet dinner in an enchanting tzimmer in the Galil,” Yoeli says with a gentle smile. The kitchen leads out to a porch — quite a small porch, but as long as there’s room for a table and two chairs, alongside the brooms and the cupboard holding the cleaning products, they’re fine.
Leiky doesn’t laugh.
“Is something bothering you?” Not only does Yoeli speak melodiously, he’s also well attuned to other people’s melodies.
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