yellow star onto his arm were severed, allowing it finally to fold over. Yet his eyes remained open, perfectly still, staring piercingly up at Klaus. Outside, the birds continued to frolic before coming to rest on lamenting branches, swaying with the late evening breeze. Making his way across the room, Klaus placed his hands on the dry wood of the door, exposed in the corner, and ran his fingers down the grain until the cold metal doorknob pinched his skin.The rusted hinges growled under the door’s weight as it was dragged open, Klaus’ pupils wild with glorified expectancy. Yet as the old man’s eyes continued to question, all that could be seen from the little room were the pitiful moments of a life spent between two tormented people, cruelly terminated by War. The last flames slowly died to become embers under the winter’s restricting embrace, leaving the room in darkness. The sanguine light bled in through the tiny, circular window, intensifying the warm scent that she brought. Playful reflections danced off the dark walls as the last beams of winter sun played off each blonde curl. A sad, distant melody drifted in as the day’s proceedings drew to a close. Neither woman moved, their bodies gripped by a mutual fear. Raising her limp arm, the woman kissed the swollen, black stain, the rich pigment of her lipstick mixing horribly with raw flesh. She looked sadly at her forbidden friend and wondered: how much longer could she protect her?
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