Marianne and her mother collided in the entrance hall. Mrs. Kohn whispered, “Ruth’s letter.” Marianne disappeared. “Open up.” The sound of a rifle butt against the door. “I’m coming.” Marianne heard her mother open the door. The slap of leather on skin. A stifled gasp. Marianne stood in the doorway of her room. She watched the Gestapo officers, their uniforms as black as the night sky, invade their rooms. Mrs. Kohn put her finger on her lips. Her face was very white. She waited. Marianne stood without moving, watching her mother. Cupboard doors slammed. Drawers crashed. They heard glass shatter. Something ripped. Gleaming black boots walked toward Marianne. She edged back into her room, picked up her teddy bear, held him tightly. The officer patted Marianne’s head. Turned away. “Let’s go.” They left. Their boots rang out through the building. A car door shut, the roaring engine disturbing the dawn. Marianne and her mother did not stir until the only sound they could hear was their own breathing.
