Zechariah was quiet at first. An appreciative nod here, an impressed raise of the brows here. Unusual for him, certainly – normally, he was trudging through life like Muter was still dragging him to Bubbe’s to get bagels and a scolding.

There was not much beyond polite reactions until Uriel mentioned that dream he had been chasing. The one with all the poor people, and teaching them. That wacky little detour that he had started beginning to believe was not, in fact, a detour. But it was: he was going into tutoring. Back into their demographic. He was returning to a more normal life.

He had the option of a more normal life … and he might be taking it.

Zechariah closed the kitchen door.

“I was not very supportive of your new life, Uriel. I apologize. Are you certain-” Zechariah started, then stopped abruptly.

Was he certain? That was always the matter. Certainty. As if any single thing on God’s green earth was a certainty.

“You do not have to be certain,” he resolved aloud. “Let me know how I can support you in your next chapter of life.”