Was it better not to ask the questions and live in a fantasy world in which one’s conscience remains clear?

Felix rolls over in bed and covers his face with his hand. He should have studied law. He should have studied law and unearthed an ancient jurisdiction against waking up a gentleman on New Year’s Day.
Wilhelm is standing far too close to him. He puts both fingers in his mouth and whistles. Up, down, trill.
“Wilhelm! Please. What gentleman—”
“Guess who I met last night?”
“How should I know?”
“My uncle.”
“Earth-shattering. I’ve lost count of your uncles.”
“Yes, well, that is not helped by the fact that my father insists I call uncle every man he once drank coffee with.”
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.