some of my best friends are

jews...

by

jay

wallace

"But I mean it, Michael; I'm not prejudiced toward anyone."

He said: "Uh huh," politely, with the proper tone of respect, and continued looking down at his drawing board. They were having one of the daily discussions they sometimes had, when the after-lunch hours dragged on. In an art department, sometimes, the hours move at a crawl, and so, to fill in the gap, they usually talked... about anything, everything. She was black-eyed, shrewd, and Italian; he was just an ordinary guy, sort of nondescript, with nothing special to set him apart from the thousands of other designers that labored over drawing boards, in the big center, known as Manhattan.

"I mean it, Michael..." she repeated.

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