Holocaust
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The bus lumbered along the road. At every hour or so, the driver smashed the pedal to the floor, screeching the brakes. The doors slammed open, and passengers swarmed the vehicle like fleas to a bloodhound in June. Before everyone sat down, the doors crashed together and the bus resumed its journey with a lurch,
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Like the others she’d sent, the envelope read “Return to Sender.” Milena’s heart shuddered; her mind screamed. “They’ve taken him. I know they have!” Was he dead? Was he starving in Auschwitz, Treblinka…? Milena immediately returned to Poland — Scared. Defiant. For love. Within the hour, Franz arrived in New York. He had managed to
Ergo, the Ogre 