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Abstract –
Liebowitz comes into my officeagain. He knocks, though why bother since he enters at the same exact instant, waves at me in disgust and sits his fat behind on the ribs of the old-fashioned radiator. It’s been painted and painted until it’s become a layered sculpture; the iron ribs must be uncomfortable as hell. “Myron, please sit like a regular person.” I get up and pull the chair from the side of my desk. Then I realize—his hips wouldn’t come close to fitting between the armrests. I feel bad I might have shamed him, but he hasn’t noticed.
“I thought you were coming to our morning minyan.” He raises ragged eyebrows.
“I got to bed late last night,” I say.
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