The earth continued rotating, people in far away places like Canada and America and Argentina went to school, ate fish for dinner and took swigs of Cola while they laughed with their families. But my world was cruelly ripped away from me like an animal devouring fresh meat. The crisp March day the Germans arrived, Hajna and I were furiously chasing around Kiraly, the new puppy my father had gotten us for our birthday the week before. Always the loud one (and obnoxious, our nanny would say between breaths thinking we hadn't heard) , Hajna grabbed her roller skates and made a rink on the wooden floor of the living room as she chased Kiraly, shrieking in childhood delight--something she would not have done had she any idea what was waiting for us with the heavy stomps of German boots. Our father, a doctor in the town and a teacher at the university, would not allow us to go outside and burn off our excess energy. “It's too dangerous," he sighed, shaking his head and running his fingers through his bushy black eyebrows to make them curve just so.
