W
hen the car service pulled up in front of their building. Rabbi Levinson ran off to shul and Mrs. Levinson ran home to start cooking supper. As soon as Yitzy got out of the car, he stopped to look up at the old, grey building that his family called home. It was eight stories tall and very wide. It wasn’t the prettiest building around, but it wasn’t the ugliest one either. Yitzy had been living in this building since the day he was born, but he had never looked at it the way he did right now.
“Could all this possibly belong to me one day?” he asked himself. It was too unbelievable to imagine.
Suddenly, Yitzy’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind him.
“Are you okay?”
Yitzy whirled around to see his best friend, Yossi, riding his bike up the street toward him.
