I noticed them at the station a day earlier. Now, I had the good fortune of sitting across from them in the dining car. A Jewish star dangled from the delicate gold chain around her neck. His tattoo was covered by his shirt sleeve.
“It must feel strange,” I said.
The old man shrugged. “They must not think they won.”
“They all died here,” she said. “Except for dziadek and me!”
He patted her hand. “They must never forget!”
The train slowed. Ahead was the camp, now the Auschwitz-Birkenhau State Museum. Tears came to her eyes. The old man stood.
The above work is exactly 100 words and is my submission to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, where we are given a photo prompt and approximately 100-175 words with which to build our stories. The challenge is open to everyone who would like to participate. It’s fun and addicting. If you wish more information, please click here. And, to read the stories from great writers, click here.