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Asharon Baltazar

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Asharon has liked to write since childhood and found a good outlet for his creativity here. He currently resides with his wife in Jerusalem, where he studies in Kollel. For suggestions, critique, or just a simple hello, you can contact him via his email.
The door of the decorated coach opened, and an elegantly dressed gentleman stepped out.
Over time, successive economic downturns diminished the couple’s wealth, and they had to resort to selling their possessions to buy food.
Silent looks were thrown around, frantically trying to pinpoint the one responsible.
They rested and grazed, and after a day or two, the rancher prodded them along to the fair where, plump and agile, they sold nicely.
For almost 20 years the innkeeper had avoided paying his annual dues to the baron from whom he leased the property.
An assortment of tefillin—some old and worn, others glossy and new—lay neatly arranged.
Reb Avraham was known to be a kind but a simple and almost illiterate Jew, barely able to follow the prayers or read Tehillim.
“Why are you worrying?” chuckled the rabbi. “Heaven directs everything, and there isn’t a person alive who knows what needs to happen or when.”
If successful, he would save his brothers and sisters from certain ruin. If unsuccessful, they shuddered to imagine…
The Rebbe continued speaking, even as the clock ticked closer to midnight.
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