The cookies. They’d been there for weeks. That meant that if the mayor himself used the library, he must have seen them… Or—and as soon as Liesel felt this thought, it filled her with a strange optimism—perhaps it wasn’t the mayor’s library at all; it was hers, Ilsa Hermann’s.
pAs Michael told his mother, it was three very long days later that I finally came for the soldier who had left his feet behind in Stalingrad. I showed up very much invited at the temporary hospital and flinched at the smell. A man with a bandaged hand was telling the mute, shock-faced soldier that he would survive. “You’ll soon be going home,” he assured him. Yes, home I thought. For good
pBrunnenweg was telling a joke about a French waitress when the left front wheel was punctured and the driver lost control. The vehicle rolled many times and the men swore as they tumbled with the air, the light, the trash, and the tobacco…. When it stopped, they were all crowded onto