My voice is like a rumour. I'm not sure if it came out or not, or if it is true.

The Germans in basements were pitiable, surely, but at least they had a chance. That basement was not a washroom. They were not sent there for a shower. For those people, life was still achievable.

We're silent now, both waiting, till I remind myself that I'm the older one and should therefore initiate conversation. But I don't. I don't want to waste this girl with idle chitchat. She's beautiful.

The dilemma, of course, is that such people save their most important words for after, when the surrounding humans are unlucky enough to find them.

You're far from this. This story is just another few hundred pages of your mind.

I’m Angelina,” she says. “Are you here to save us?” I can see a tiny spark of hope awaken in her eyes. “You’re right, Angelina - I’m here to save you.” “Can you? Really?” “I’ll try,” I say and the girl smiles.

We both laugh and run and the moment is so thick around me that i feel like dropping into it to let it carry me.