Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

182 Air. Monday and Other Tales of Jewish Amsterdam

The spoiled little fat son screamed with pleasure. The woman laughed. Sol blushed, as if in shame. For a short second I thought the restlessness had disappeared from his eyes. I don't know why, but suddenly I felt a sort of lump in my throat.

"You remember, Sol," I said hoarsely, "how you used to come to our house to have dinner with us. I remember it as if it were yesterday."

But he cut it off roughly, saying, "Yesterday never returns."