Okay, his voice could be warmer, but hey, she was the one banging things around, not speaking to him

HE

hadn’t meant to oversleep, but dinner at his parents’ had gone on for hours, then he’d caught a late Maariv, and by the time they got back to their apartment, he’d needed to unwind a bit with a book — and before he knew it, it was 2:30 in the morning.

And of course, Estee actually had a booking, so she was up bright and early, slamming drawers and crinkling things in the kitchen purposefully, while he slouched around, feeling like a bum.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, his mother had walked them to their car last night and had said, in front of Estee, that it was amazing to see that her little boy was now a man, and she was so proud of him.

He could practically hear Estee’s mental snort.

He felt that her frustration wasn’t fair. He’d been perfectly on schedule for the past month, ever since bein hazmanaim. He was entitled to a bad day every now and then.

Hustling out the door, balancing his tallis bag and a cup of coffee, he almost thought about leaving without saying anything. Almost.

“Have a good day. Good luck with the shoot,” he finally managed to get out. Okay, his voice could be warmer, but hey, she was the one banging things around, not speaking to him.

Silence. Then, “Thanks. Have a good day.”

The air was cool, leaves crunched underfoot. He actually liked the fall. But his mood didn’t pick up until he spotted at least three other shanah rishonah guys speeding along to seder with their coffee cups. He was in good company. So why couldn’t Estee see that?