man," declared Mrs. Skolnik, who had worn white pearl rhinestone-studded 1950s pixie glasses, the kind that came to a sharp point at both temples, for so long that they had come back into fashion. Mordy called her "the shoelace patrol," because every time she had seen him in the last forty years, she had followed him down the street, calling, "Mordy, Mordy," and when she got his attention, which was always difficult, she would point at his shoes and say, "You are going to trip." And he would smile pleasantly and continue walking.
"What man?" said Sal at the meat slicer, curling off paper-thin pro-sciutto.
"The one who shot Mr. Rabbinowitz."
"Forget about it. They're still trying to piece together his face." Nathan pointed at Sarah above him with his eyeballs, trying to get Sal to stop. But he continued, "It's like a broken teacup or something. You can stand there all day with the fucking glue, but there's always a few pieces missing."
"I gave the police a description," Mrs. Skolnik confessed nervously
"Who knows where the missing pieces are. You never find them."
"I very carefully described the man to them."
"You saw him?" said Nathan.
"Who?" asked Sal.
"Yes. I heard the gunshot and I saw a man running up First Avenue."
"How do you know it was the man who shot him? Did he have a gun?" Nathan probed.
"You see, the police said the exact same thing. But you could see he was a killer. You could see he had just killed."
"Did he kill him because he didn't want him in his house?" asked Sarah.
The woman looked over Nathan's head in confusion. "He just looked like a killer."
"Daddy," said Sarah, "where is my notebook?"
"What did he look like?" Sal asked.
"Daddy," Sarah half whined and half shouted, "I need my notebook!"
"He was very large and had a lot of black hair and wild crazy eyes like a killer."
"Daddy, I need it now!" Her mood was starting to turn, and Nathan knew he had to leave.
"The police said they needed more details, but what more do you need? They should arrest him. He was from the neighborhood."
"Daddy, I want to take notes. Now! I want to!"
Nathan was running out of time and drifting dangerously close to Sixth Street, where the minyan grabbers were waiting. He gingerly walked up to the Edelweiss window and looked past the rows of won-drously layered tortes. Moellen and his wife were behind the counter under a poster of Heidelberg, a city with which they had no connection. Karoline was not in. It was a better day than he had thought. He did not want to see her today He had almost had sex with her in his mind on the F train earlier.
Not wanting to add cookie crumbs to his oily hair, he lowered Sarah off his shoulders and walked in.
He baked and she sold. When caught together, they smiled. They smiled much more than either of them ever did separately—as though it were a competition between them. He was lean and tall and seemed stern, except that he had an unpredictable sense of humor that functioned better in the unpredictably dark world of children. Without warning, he would be on the floor pumping off five push-ups, then standing up with arms raised, flexing his biceps. Sarah looked dutifully frightened when his lips protruded and he put on his stern Teutonic face. She understood that this was the game and that soon he would do something funny.
His wife was not robust like him, and she never did anything funny She was thin and fragile looking. Her hair fell straight down and was gray. She had never colored it. Her face was delicately but not unpleasantly lined with age. Oddly, there was a slight crease vertically down her right cheek, almost as though tears had left a scar. Nathan didn't remember ever noticing this line before, but surely it had been there for a very long time. He thought back on all the years he had known her and was horrified to realize that since boyhood he had always found something very desirable about her, and though she was now quite old, it was still there. She looked as
"What man?" said Sal at the meat slicer, curling off paper-thin pro-sciutto.
"The one who shot Mr. Rabbinowitz."
"Forget about it. They're still trying to piece together his face." Nathan pointed at Sarah above him with his eyeballs, trying to get Sal to stop. But he continued, "It's like a broken teacup or something. You can stand there all day with the fucking glue, but there's always a few pieces missing."
"I gave the police a description," Mrs. Skolnik confessed nervously
"Who knows where the missing pieces are. You never find them."
"I very carefully described the man to them."
"You saw him?" said Nathan.
"Who?" asked Sal.
"Yes. I heard the gunshot and I saw a man running up First Avenue."
"How do you know it was the man who shot him? Did he have a gun?" Nathan probed.
"You see, the police said the exact same thing. But you could see he was a killer. You could see he had just killed."
"Did he kill him because he didn't want him in his house?" asked Sarah.
The woman looked over Nathan's head in confusion. "He just looked like a killer."
"Daddy," said Sarah, "where is my notebook?"
"What did he look like?" Sal asked.
"Daddy," Sarah half whined and half shouted, "I need my notebook!"
"He was very large and had a lot of black hair and wild crazy eyes like a killer."
"Daddy, I need it now!" Her mood was starting to turn, and Nathan knew he had to leave.
"The police said they needed more details, but what more do you need? They should arrest him. He was from the neighborhood."
"Daddy, I want to take notes. Now! I want to!"
Nathan was running out of time and drifting dangerously close to Sixth Street, where the minyan grabbers were waiting. He gingerly walked up to the Edelweiss window and looked past the rows of won-drously layered tortes. Moellen and his wife were behind the counter under a poster of Heidelberg, a city with which they had no connection. Karoline was not in. It was a better day than he had thought. He did not want to see her today He had almost had sex with her in his mind on the F train earlier.
Not wanting to add cookie crumbs to his oily hair, he lowered Sarah off his shoulders and walked in.
He baked and she sold. When caught together, they smiled. They smiled much more than either of them ever did separately—as though it were a competition between them. He was lean and tall and seemed stern, except that he had an unpredictable sense of humor that functioned better in the unpredictably dark world of children. Without warning, he would be on the floor pumping off five push-ups, then standing up with arms raised, flexing his biceps. Sarah looked dutifully frightened when his lips protruded and he put on his stern Teutonic face. She understood that this was the game and that soon he would do something funny.
His wife was not robust like him, and she never did anything funny She was thin and fragile looking. Her hair fell straight down and was gray. She had never colored it. Her face was delicately but not unpleasantly lined with age. Oddly, there was a slight crease vertically down her right cheek, almost as though tears had left a scar. Nathan didn't remember ever noticing this line before, but surely it had been there for a very long time. He thought back on all the years he had known her and was horrified to realize that since boyhood he had always found something very desirable about her, and though she was now quite old, it was still there. She looked as
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