Only one woman was making eye contact, everyone else averted their gaze. A weight laid itself on my chest and settled there
“What are you wearing?” Shifra asked. I shrugged, switched the phone to my left ear, and peered into my closet.
“Dunno, a sweater, black skirt. What else do you wear to a Melaveh Malkah?”
“No,” Shifra said firmly. “Remember that dress you wore to Leah’s Sunday brunch sheva brachos? Wear that.”
“So fancy?”
“With the necklace I lent you. I promise you’ll thank me.”
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