June 14th, 1940
Germans make their way through the streets of France saluting and cheering. "Nightingale," my brother whispered. "We need to go." "We mustn't. People will be suspicious." Ansel pulled my arm away from the crowd and led me to the steps of our apartment building. "You can't do that, Ansel! Peoples' minds will wander!" I told him sternly. "Look, no one wants this. They made the decision to come and invade our land. We have the choice to follow their rules." I just went along with it. His firm words and deep hazel eyes were not something to argue with.
We opened the door of our small apartment and walk into the one room with two beds, a small bathroom, and a very tiny kitchen. Ansel sits at the small table with his head in his hands. I go to sit on my bed when he speaks. "The French. They... they fight back." "Yes? The resistance." I stand and walk the few steps to stand next to him. "Beau. He has ties, and uh, I'm going to see if he can-" "ANSEL!" I whisper sharply. "Why are you saying this?" My face becomes hot and threatens tears. "Because it's not safe for us, Nightingale. Not anywhere. Not anymore." His eyes hold a strong glare into mine. I break it when I look down at the floor. He runs a hand through is dark brown hair. "When..." I whisper so quietly that I don't think Ansel even heard it. "What?" He replies looking up. "When... are we going?" My voice is unsteady and quiet, but Ansel understands. "Two weeks."
