74Hamid Nuri kissed his fingers and touched the mezuzah on the door frame before entering Tsvi Geller’s apartment. The men had been having dinner together each Friday evening since the death of Geller’s wife six months earlier.
“I thought this would go well with fish,” the Imam handed a bottle of sparkling water to his host.
Geller accepted the gift with an exaggerated bow and put it in the refrigerator before leading Nuri into the living room. The Imam scanned a wall covered by photographs, pausing in front of a black and white picture of two boys wearing near identical tweed sport coats and caps.
“I love this picture.” Nuri leaned closer to examine their youthful faces.
Geller moved to his old friend’s shoulder. “It’s too bad you haven’t gotten any taller. The intervening decades had
