Cody looked teddy-bear soft and was ox-strong, but years of holing up with books forced him to forsake athleticism for thick glasses and an impressive command of Hebrew. Cody was starched white Oxford shirts and shiny leather loafers, a tailored wool blazer and rumpled dark hair. He was acerbic sarcasm and hunched shoulders, second son in a family with too much money and not enough affection.
On good days, Cody sat on the front steps of the school with the Torah open on his knees, contemplating life, the universe, everything, the number 42, and the Angel of Death.
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1 comment:
You really know how to capture someone in a brief glimpse!
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