They stared out the window and down the street. Nazi storm troopers were making a bonfire out of Torahs, holy scrolls, and prayer books next to the blazing old majestic synagogue. They could see Rabbi Mosel trying to stop them, pulling at them, but the officers struck him and pushed him to the ground.
“There’s no hope now. The world has gone mad,” Sylvia said, her voice trembling, “and I am nearly there.”
The children wrapped their arms around their mother. The burning synagogue reflected in Peter’s eyes, and he feared the music inside him had died.
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