Yom Kippur

Walt trudged from the bus stop toward his brother’s house in the chill of an early autumn evening. The sack of bagels swung annoyingly against his leg. His face was puckered in a scowl. I should have given this all up months ago. It never did get me anywhere, not when Dad was alive and certainly not since. Walt’s brother Ted had remained adamant about maintaining the terms of their father’s will.