Moshe's Ecstasy
The woods just outside the park had long carried a reputation. To most of the city, it was just a stretch of overgrown paths, thickets bending into shadows, the smell of damp earth and cigarettes hanging in the air. But to the men who came here after dusk, it was something else entirely—a place where loneliness and desire blurred into something wordless, where footsteps slowed and eyes lingered just a moment too long. David, fifty-three, had been coming here on and off for years. His body was soft now, not what it once was, and he’d long stopped worrying if anyone noticed. Men who drifted through here weren’t looking for perfection. They were looking for something immediate. That night, he spotted someone who didn’t belong—or at least didn’t seem to. A Hasidic man, broad-bellied and dressed in the full black-and-white uniform of his faith, strolled stiffly along the edge of the path. The wide-brimmed hat sat firm on his head, side curls framing a face that looked more than...