Strip DreidelThe shade was up for the first time ever. Well, for as long as I had lived across from him, anyway. Typical New York apartment buildings. Windows facing each another, separated by maybe twenty, thirty feet. Neighbors who know all of your business. And vice-versa. Not this guy, though. Private dude. Shades always down. Though, like I said, not this time.
There it was, framed in brick, behind glass, dead center, all in silver: a menorah. The first candle lit, mirroring my own from across the alleyway, ten stories up. Guy was a Jew. Go figure. Then again, New York Jews are about as rare as gays at a pride parade—in San Francisco. Still, all this time living across from him and this was the first tidbit of information I’d come by. Like I said, go figure.
I grabbed my binoculars
