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So, Mr. Blum?
So, Mr. Blau?
What’s with you, Mr. Blum?
What should be with me, Mr. Blau?
How should I know what’s with you, Mr. Blum? I’m asking you. May I not ask? Why are you staring so?
I’m staring…
I entered the restaurant five minutes late on purpose, but Babushkin was already there. He was at the small table I’d reserved way over in the corner, hunched over the menu because he was scared…
“Oh, Mother, can’t you use a fork?” exclaimed Rachel as Mrs. Ravinsky took the shell of the baked potato in her fingers and raised it to her watering mouth.
“Here, Teacherin mine, you want to learn…