She was 13 and lived in a village somewhere in what nowadays is called Serbia. Her name doesn’t matter. She lived in a small building with her parents and her brothers. Above them lived a Jewish family with their only son, Yonah. The lakes and the river that crossed the village were frozen. It was a exceptionally cold winter when they came. The Germans. In tanks and trucks. They came to take the Jews. She saw it happen. They took the little boy and shot him in the head.
His parents watching.
Screaming.
Begging.
Yelling.
Crying.
Fainting.
She saw it and stopped breathing. They pushed the Jewish parents into a truck and drove away. When the exceptional cold winter faded, the ice layer on the river and lakes started melting.
Hair.
Heads.
Hands.
Frozen corpse reproachful looking through the ice.
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