Hope that love could bend the rules of kosher observance only went so far.
Aaron and I lingered at the buffet table, enormous bowls of pasta salad and vegetables spread out in front of us. Our minyan was celebrating the purchase of a pre-World War II Torah that had been recently rescued from its hiding spot in the basement of an old synagogue in Romania.
“It’s funny, that guy over there just asked if we were dating,” I mentioned, as I reached for some tortellini with pesto. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that question. Earlier this week, someone asked me the same thing.”