NOV. 12, ‘25 // The small shul was dimly lit. Maariv services had ended a while ago, and only two people remained behind, seated beside a small table. David Weinfeld, the older of the two, looked upset. For the umpteenth time, he pleaded with his friend, "Aaron, think it over again." "David, if I could change my plans I would. I'm just as upset by this good-bye as you are," Aaron Baumgarten replied in a broken voice. "But I have no mazel here. Maybe I'll do better somewhere else." "But why Chicago? Aren't there closer places? Is its grass any greener than New York's?" "Yitzchok Feld lives there, and he’s told me about a few interesting opportunities. Business is also better in Chicago." "What opportunities? Tell me about them," David countered. Aaron ignored that request. "David, I've chewed this over very carefully, and believe me, I have no choice. Boruch Hashem, you're happily married and have a good job in the bank. I'm already twenty-seven, and I’m still a bachelor. I feel out of place in yeshiva, since all of the bochurim are at least four years younger than I am. If you were in my shoes, you would understand me better." David didn't answer. He sensed Aaron's bitter tone, and knew that Aaron felt that he hadn't done enough for him. But what more could he have done? He offered Aaron scores of shidduchim, yet he turned all of them down. He found him a job in the bank, but Aaron quit after just a year. David sadly reflected on how his intelligent and talented friend had, over the years, become such a washout. Aaron was much brighter than David and CHAPTER ONE A Novel of Terrorisim & Betrayal K 184
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