I went with a friend to a service one Yom Kippur. There was one guy there who my friend said every service would always take a candy bar out of his pocket and munch on it discreetly— except on Yom Kippur, when he fasted. During the service, this old guy’s hand would stray to inside his jacket, and every time he found the absence of the candy bar, the perfect picture of woe and deprivation would pass across his face.

It was pretty adorable.