There was a hollow howl in the mind-boggling nothingness of the empty sky on a deep blue night.
The center of night was approaching, and all light had been put out.
But Rivky lie awake. She had already made up her mind.
It was time for the dreamer to act on her dreams.
No more pre-arranged dates, no more approbations and denials.
Now it was Rivky, and Rivky alone who would decide her dates. Be they clandestine, be they with the devil himself.
Carefully, she detached the drapes in her room from the window lintel.
She draped it over herself, a ghostly cloth from head to toe.
With the scissors in her makeup drawer, she etched out a space in her newfound cloak. A rectangle, so that just the sparkle of her determined eyes shown.
She was now wearing a perfect Arab garb.
Through a drape-less window, a figure in a dark red cloak disappeared into the night.
Not many meters from her house, a rush off freedom overtook her. A thrill of ecstasy, like a prisoner set free.
By morning she would reach the Taliban. If Mohammed McDonald-McVeigh was the best learner in Town, it was him that she would date. Not to burden her parents to support a Kollel man. Not to dishonor her father and mother. Not to defy her Shadchan.
But for the sake of Torah.