September 1946
September 1946The wind played havoc with Greta’s clothing, whipping her skirt relentlessly around her legs. She clutched at her hat in desperation, hoping to keep it from flying away. Then came the raindrops, thick and heavy, sliding down the sleeve of her coat as she ran to the nearest shelter on the street. A coffee shop, a perfect place to seek refuge from the deluge outside. Nodding to the proprietor, Greta looked for a place to sit. The café was mostly empty, only a few patrons engaged in soft conversations. Sitting down near the window, she tugged off her drenched coat and set her hat on the corner of the table to dry.
Across from her sat two men, bent over a stack of papers with a few empty plates occupying the rest of the table. They were deeply engrossed in discus
