You
really want to know?
A
pause.
It was
worth a try.
Isn’t
that bad enough?
Speeches
would be made.
For
Tommy. For Rudy.
Kids
calling out to other kids.
Liesel
heard it again. Kommunisten.
The Fuhrer.
I
never met her.
I hate
the Fuhrer.
Not
words at all.
The
thrill of being ignored!
Mein
Kampf.
Enter
the struggler.
He is
scum.
He is
afraid.
Please
try not to look away.
“Please,”
he said. “Please.”
I’m
sorry.
The
sound of the stranded.
Triumph
before the storm.
Don’t
be afraid.
One
wild card was yet to be played.
To
love nothing more than a good fistfight.
They
fought like champions.
A
trickle of blood and it tasted good.
Such
stupid gallantry.
The
bittersweetness of uncertainty.
To win
or to lose.
He was
twenty two.
He was
lying.
It
tortured him.
No final
goodbye.
Living
was living. The price was guilt and shame.
His
tortured presence.
Drizzle
came down in spades.
Max
remained in the basement.
How
long did you stay in that room?
Why
would you keep fighting him?
She
likes a good fistfight too.
You’re
still alive, aren’t you?
Well,
thank God.
Mein
kampf.
The
trick was to keep them apart.
Like
the lamb handing the knife to the butcher.
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