Previously published: Morning and Evening, Parts I, II, III and IV

Yossel feared both his mother’s rage and her sorrows, which came on without warning. In the height of summer, winter would enter her heart and darken it. She would lie in bed and bemoan her fate until even her lips were too weak to move, and on such days Yossel would eat cold bread and await her return, as if from a long journey. She lies in the bed: sweat dampens her brow, her eyes grow filmy and dark; days may pass, or only half a day. When the darkness was heaviest she neglected the tavern and the house. Yossel would slip out to heder in the morning and when he returned in the evening dust had gathered in his wake on the stoop, but little else had changed.