“I was in Reb Azarya’s office. You know the picture of the baby on his desk? The picture of… of….” He took a deep breath. “Yisroel?”
There were some facts of life that Akiva always assumed would one day explain themselves — the “smell of rain” being one of them. The scent, faint and familiar, was growing stronger now, and before Akiva had time to ponder its science any further, he was thoroughly drenched.
He rounded the corner and stopped short. Even in the dense wall of rain he could make out the UPS brown — and upon further squinting, he could discern the driver heaving a large cardboard box out of the truck, right outside the yeshivah building. Akiva wanted nothing more than to sprint down the block to his house, but that box likely contained a new shipment of seforim and, if left out in a downpour like this one, they could get ruined.
He waited for the driver to return to his truck before turning onto the yeshivah’s walkway. He reached the box and tried to lift it… no dice. It was immensely heavy. He quickly punched in the yeshivah’s combination, propped the door open and, between his hands and feet, managed to wrest the box inside.
Akiva leaned against the wall for a moment, panting. He was about to head back outside when the door to Reb Azarya’s office opened.
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