A Better Tomorrow (The Book Thief)

A Better Tomorrow

A blond woman lingered at the door, clutching a bag to her chest like it was a child. She hesitated to walk into the poorly lit room with the man sitting at the desk. 

•THIS WOMAN'S NAME• 

Liesel Meminger 

•WHAT THIS WOMAN DID• 

Steal books. 

Of course, her book stealing days were many years and many miles far from her. She never forgot the thrill of holding a book in her hands, especially one that wasn't hers, and she never truly shed the desire to sneak away without a casted eye, but she learned with age and experience that that never truly worked out in anybody's favor. She appreciated written word like others appreciated bread and custard. She grew up with little of any of those luxuries, words or food, but one became a priority. 

"Mr. Smith?" Liesel Meminger called out to the room. "Are you Mr. Smith?" 

"Depends on who you are." a voice called back. After a few seconds, a few more lights came on, and a charismatic-looking, handsome man presented himself. 

She held the burlap bag tighter to her chest. Deep breaths. 

"I have an appointment under L. Meminger. I'm looking to get published." 

"You- you're L. Meminger?" he chuckled. "Come, come, sit down. What does L stand for?" 

"Liesel," she replied. 

"German, eh?" 

"Yes, sir," she said, recalling the feeling of her feet on the German soil. Laced with blood, which made the grass greener, she felt. 

"How long've you been here?" 

"Three years, Mr. Smith," she smiled. Simultaneously the best and worst three years of her short life.  

"Please, call me Jacob," he grinned. "Three years, eh? How old are you?" 

"Twenty three in December," she said. 

"Married?" 

"Never." 

"Planning on it?" 

"Possibly, not in my immediate future." She was used to this interrogation. Being this old without at least a plan to wed was practically a sin in 1952. 

"What was it like?" he implored, leaning forward in his seat. "Being there, in Germany, what was it like?" 

"Read my book to find out." She leaned back in her chair, satisfied. 

"Okay, okay, let's talk some more first. Any men in your life?" 

"I live with my friend Max." 

"Ah. That's good. A tiny pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone, you wouldn't be able to defend yourself against the dangers of the world." 

"I'm sure I could take it," she laughed nervously. "Can we please talk about my book now? I know it needs a little more-" 

"Liesel, calm down! I'm just trying to get to know you better. What exactly is your relation to the Max fellow? Just real good friends, maybe more, maybe less?" 

"Do you interrogate your male clients like this?" she tilted her head and felt herself getting heated. Don't. Don't push this. 

"Oh no, don't tell me you're one of those man-hating feminists?" 

"I'm not man hating. I just don't like men who treat me and other women like objects." She worked to keep her voice down. She was used to this judgement from everybody- especially men.