Chapter 25
Tobacco, bitter in the mouth, obscures the truth with a plume of smoke, fire threatening from embers beneath the surface. Adds an irresistible air of mystery to the perfume composition. –DB
7 December, 1940 - Warsaw Ghetto, Poland
“Where is he?” the guttural voice commanded.
Nicky knew to hide—all the children did—but this time the boots thudded through the icy flat and a viselike hand clamped around his ankle before he could dive from the window. The man hauled him back in, though Nicky struggled fiercely.
Nicky squeezed his eyes shut, but not before he recognized the man beneath the uniform.
The mother of the family he lived with was pleading, “He’s just a boy, leave him alone. He was hungry, that’s all, it won’t happen again, I swear.” She fell to her knees, grasping at
