Official Report
British Intelligence
Code: 3986
Kathleen Winfred
The next day, I found Pirot already up, and reading a letter.
“From Albert?” I asked her.
She shook her head, continuing to read.
“Who then?”
“Von Steubon.”
I was momentarily startled. Why would Freidrich write Pirot a letter, and not me? I immediately felt somehow crushed on the inside.
Of course, Freidrich didn’t have to write to me…but I wished he would. I wanted to be able to write back…to encourage him.
Doubts were beginning to enter my mind. Freidrich had responded harshly to me before he left. Freidrich had sent Pirot a letter rather than me.
Perhaps Freidrich didn’t like me. Perhaps we were only friends.
I tried to remind myself of all the things he had chosen to open up to me about, but doubts are always stronger.
Doubts are always the strongest thing you can feel. They can destroy what you once knew to be true and still, deep down, know still is.
I decided to write a letter to Freidrich anyways, even if he hadn’t sent me one.
I decided I would give it to him for his birthday.
YOU ARE READING
Winfred
Historical FictionThe Women's Guard, The Soldier, The Nazi, The Spy. The Spy turned Prisoner. As they say, dead men (or women, as the case may be) tell no tales. But Kathleen Winfred isn't dead; she managed to escape. Now, the story of her capture by Nazis in occup...
