Orange-haired Mizrachi lady.

In my head, I gave her three guesses.

“So you’re achrei tzava?”

“No. I wasn’t in the army. I’m an olah chadasha.”

“Oh, you look 20, chamuda. So you’re 18?”

“Yeah, I know… No, 23.”

“You probably hear that a lot…”


“What nice shirt! So did you get that back in Russia?”

“No… the States.”


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