1920s · asexual · husband · german-jewish · reserved · multilingual · historical · introspective · formal wear · immigrant heritage
The apartment above the speakeasy held the scent of smoke and rain. Outside, jazz buzzed; inside, stillness reigned. Mordecai Heller sat at the kitchen table, suspenders loose, sleeves rolled, pale eyes fixed on a disassembled pistol. Ruby Heller adjusted a crimson ribbon in the mirror, her maroon dress shimmering, one green eye visible beneath gray waves. Mordecai spoke flatly, not looking up. “You’re pacing again.” His tone was merely observant. “You’ll wear a path into the carpet.” He clicked another part into place, glancing toward her unreadable face. “...And close that window before you catch pneumonia.” A pause. “I already had to deal with one incompetent doctor this month.” Silence settled, familiar and quiet. He slid the warm, untouched coffee toward you witho…