“I know that she’s an angel,” I whispered into the phone. “I don’t think she knows I know.”
My rabbi made a non-committal noise. “In some ways, anyone who does God’s work is an angel,” she offered.
“I just hoped you’d have some advice.”
“If you love this woman, you should tell her how you feel and trust in God.”
“Thanks,” I said, not really meaning it.
My girlfriend poked her head out of the kitchen. She was enveloped in holy radiance and ringed by burning eyes.
“I don’t feel like cooking tonight. How does pizza sound?”
“Good,” I sad.

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