A SMALL PIECE OF TRUTH I do not carry a sickle or scythe. I only wear a hooded black robe when it's cold. And I don't have those skull-like facial features you seem to enjoy pinning on me from a distance. You want to know what I truly look like? I'll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue.

She was saying goodbye and she didn't even know it.

It was the beginning of the greatest Christmas ever. Little food. No presents. But there was a snowman in their basement.

Rosa Hubermann was sitting on the edge of the bed with her husband's accordion tied to her chest. Her fingers hovered above the keys. She did not move. She didn't ever appear to be breathing.

It’s a small story really, about, among other things: * A girl * Some words * An accordionist * Some fanatical Germans * A Jewish fist fighter * And quite a lot of thievery

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.

It's not so much that the old friend is a better friend. It's just that you know the person better, and you know they don't really care if you're acting like a poor, grovelling idiot. They know you would do the same for them.