Gestapo

3

Peter stared at Rebecca, trembling against the cellar wall. He knew her. He had seen her before Hitler had ruined her. He had seen her as a girl in the markets, happily swinging loaves of bread and singing. And he had seen her as the Fuhrer took over, disappearing into the shadows of slums and ghettos, slinking into alleys whenever a person approached. After that, he had not seen her. For five years, he had missed her without knowing her, without ever having said a word to her. And still he loved her.

Peter turned, suddenly desperate to get away. The door stuck and almost broke as he pulled it from it's frame, and shuddered when he slammed it closed. As Peter tripped into daylight, Rebecca's bulb went out and she was left in darkness.

Peter hurried around the building and took a deep breath before entering.

"Gutten abend, Herr Herrmann," the drawn face of Frau Schäfer, the woman who lived downstairs, peered around a corner at him, from the kitchen.

"Gutten abend, Frau Schäfer," Peter hoped his voice was steady as he hurried towards the stairs that led to his level of the house. Was he walking too quickly? But it would seem suspicious to slow down so suddenly. Maybe Frau Schäfer hadn't noticed his speed, and slowing down would only bring attention to it.

Somehow, he survived until the top of the stairs. Slouched against the wall, just out of sight of anyone on the lower level, Peter tried and tried again to gain control of his racing heartbeat.

And suddenly something struck him and he had a huge smile on his face. He had seen Rebecca. He could see her whenever he wanted, because she was safe. Peter had to stop himself from jumping for joy as he entered his home.