The Book Thief and the Phantom

In the Dark

Once again, Liesel found herself outside of the Opera Populaire. I personally watched her enter the opera house, and followed her until she was on the catwalk once again, waiting for the Phantom.

In her hand was The Standover Man. She payed less attention to the opera that took place below her. She watched the shadows, waiting for him to appear. Another friend. That's how she thought of him. A friend from dreams, but still a friend. Like Rudy Steiner. Like Tommy Müller.

Oh no.

Liesel hit herself with the heel of her hand. Curse her for thinking of them! Curse her! Then there were tears. She remembered Rudy, dead on the disheveled arm of Himmel Street. Her kiss. Their kiss.

Gone, carried away in my arms, like Hans and Rosa Hubermann.

Dead. All dead.

If only I could comfort the Book Thief. But something held me back. Kept me away. Forced me to freeze where I stood.

**Why I Didn't Comfort The Book Thief**
I hate seeing survivors. It would pain my ashen black heart even more to talk to one.

Footsteps echoed behind Liesel. She turned, and her eyes instantly met with the Phantom.

"We meet again, Book Thief." he said quietly.

For a moment there was only silence; two very human faces locked in mental and emotional conflict.

"You seem upset." said the Phantom. "What is troubling you?"

Liesel looked down. "I was remembering."

"Remembering what?"

"M-my family, Mama and Papa. My friend, Rudy, they're all gone."

"Gone?"

A tear ran down Liesel's cheek. "Dead."

The Phantom stopped. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault." Liesel wiped away any remaining tears, then took notice of the paperback in her hand.

The Standover Man.

"Here." she said, holding it out to him. "For you."

"What is it?" he asked, taking it from her.

"My friend wrote it."

"A bird?" he asked, half smiling.

"An ordinary man. His hair is like feathers, so he illustrated himself as a bird."

Liesel continued to stare at the shadow of a man, the only things standing out his pale face and white half-mask.

Who was he? Who was he, really?

**A Small Note**
Liesel would find out soon.
Not too soon.
But soon.