You were walking home when you noticed him sitting there, on the entry steps of the synagogue. The whole place was only lit by dim candles, but it was enough to make out his features. He was slim and thin, clad in a white shirt, black slacks, black shoes and a black kippah. His curly brown hair framed his face, his payot dangling down at the sides of said sharp face. He had a very straight nose, and very dark brown eyes. Chestnut, you assumed was the right way to put it. Like the chestnuts that fell from the trees in fall. He seemed deep in thought - or prayer. You couldn’t tell.

Checking your wristwatch, you noticed it was almost midnight now. Work always ended late for you. It was Friday, you thought, Shabbat had long begun for him. But why was he here and not in the comfort of his home and family?

You didn’t know, so you approached him. He gently lifted his head and met your eyes. His beard was merely stubble, he looked boyish. Couldn’t be older than 18, 19 at best.