Define popular. Define popular! Who was the lawyer here? He huffed, and shrugged the suitcases as dramatically as his weighed down arms would permit.

“Surely, there is an opera that has described it in great detail to you.”

Who would have thought? Two gay, dramatic siblings, rooted as deeply in their love for each other as in their love for the truly flamboyant. While Zechariah had turned out to be one of the rougher siblings when it came to words, there were still flashes of the sensitive soul who had professed fervent ideas of what should be versus what was. Ideas that were a little more Nesah and a little less Menachem, much as their father had tried to suppress ‘excessive sympathy’ (though more subtly, too much empathizing) for the strange flowers that bloomed through so much as the slightest crack in pavement.

“I am a perfect gentleman, thank you very much,” Zechariah insisted.

What? If there was wine and dinner preceded by sky-high expectations and succeeded by a river down said mountain, what could possibly be more gentleman-like in their little gay worlds?

At Ruth’s criticism of Zechariah’s preferred ‘assets’ in a woman, he waved a hand back and forth as though to say, ‘same thing’.

Zechariah rolled his eyes again, but then answered with a sarcastic smile: “Both, my dear sister. I am certain you will love her just as much as she deserves.”

He looked at her proud shift of legs, basking in her victory! He then looked her dead in the eyes.

“Skirt,” he declared, as though it were nigh-debatable fact just for the sake of having left his mouth.

The carriage bumped on, unable to outrun their bickering.

“How kind has Germany been to you of late?” he asked idly, watching out the window of the carriage like a bored princeling.