She heard a noise a while ago, fell asleep, then woke again. Lying still, with the night wrapped quiet around her, frost-flowers blooming across the windowpane. Lore’s limbs are warm and heavy. She’s not sure now if she only imagined it, watching the walls and window and ceiling unfolding, and beyond them, the room of dreams. A door slams, and the walls are back again, solid along the edge of her bed. Keeping her eyes closed, Lore listens. Hears her little sister breathing. Whispers. —Liesel? Anne-Liese? No reply: just the long sighs of sleep. Lore drifts. One minute, two minutes, ten. She doesn’t know how long before she hears the noise again. Doors and voices. Lore is sure now, eyes open, waiting for the crack of light from the hall. The house stays dark; the whispers come from downstairs; she slips out of bed to listen. —What is happening? —It will be fine. Over soon. You will see. Vati is here. In uniform at the foot of the stairs. Mutti has her arms around him, a soldier stands to attention in the open doorway, and behind him Lore sees a truck parked in the road.
