My mouth opened. It happened. Yes, with my head thrown into the sky, I started howling. Arms stretched out next to me, I howled, and everything came out of me. Visions pored up my throat and past voices surrounded me. The sky listened. The city didn't. I didn't care. All I cared about was that I was howling so that I could hear my voice and so I would remember that the boy had intensity and something to offer. I howled, oh, so loud and desperate, telling a world that I was here and I wouldn't lie down.

THE LAST WORDS OF MAX VANDENBURG: You've done enough.

***A Last note from your narrator*** I am haunted by humans.

I'm having bigger problems when I'm writing.

The scrawled words of practice stood magnificently on the wall by the stairs, jagged and childlike and sweet. They looked on as both the hidden Jew and the girl slept, hand to shoulder. They breathed. German and Jewish lungs.

I love and hate this place because it is full of words.

Liesel's blood had dried inside of her. It crumbled. She almost broke into pieces on the steps.