Fiction

“My name is Baila Rothman, I’m from Ohio, I’m sixteen, I’m new here,” I said to each of my roommates when they wandered in to the dorm that night. Deborah Lee had the…

He felt the vibration on his waist. He removed the phone from its holster and glanced at the caller-ID screen. The number was unfamiliar, and so was the voice. But what it said…

It is early in the morning, the Hampton air is still grey and soft with the end of night. The boardwalk, stretching along the beach’s edge, is empty. In front of me, the…

The phone calls started when I was thirteen. My mother said no, no and no. By the time I was seventeen it was calls every night, my mother carrying the cordless into her…

My cell phone vibrates. Nuchem taught me how to set it on vibrate when I’m in shul or, as I am now, at a simcha. Breindy wanted me to look around to…

My name is Moishe: Male, Caucasian, age 26, five feet seven, circumcised, brown eyes, brown hair with a few strands of white. The guys call me Mo; often times Fat Mo, for the…

“Git Shabbos, Reb Hershel,” the gabbai says to me with a smile. “Minche?”

He has it down to a science, Reb Yossel the gabbai. Every other week he asks me the same question. He…

I have to be at work early today. Niko has to load his truck at eight and Mr. V. won’t trust a goy with the keys. Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t trust me either.…

I enter our apartment. It’s noisy as hell, the same noises every evening. Koiles ivrukim. Children squabbling, Breindy yelling, the vacuum cleaner roaring, kids making milkshakes in the blender and spilling half of it…

Mr V. is screaming. His face is read, as is his neck. I suppress a laugh. He just looks so ridiculous. Now he sees me and directs his anger at me. Our family connection…