Agatha awoke. She was hungry. She made breakfast. One piece of toast and jam, no butter. Cold milk. Agatha was still hungry. Agatha knew that she could scream, and her voice would bounce off the walls and echo into the kitchen. She was alone. Sarah was at school. Mutti in Bremerhaven. Frau Bleich dead. Her husband dead. Agatha lay on the floor. She wished she was dead. She closed her eyes.
“Agatha.” Agatha awoke to Sarah’s toe nudging her arm.
“What time is it?”
“It is 5 o’clock. What have you done all day? It looks like you have not left your bed.”
“5 o’clock?” Agatha’s stomach rumbled. “It is time for dinner?”
“Yes,” smiled Sarah.
In a moment of rare anger, Agatha demanded, “Why do you smile Sarah. The blockade, the war. I have not eaten meat in months. We barely have bread. I am hungry.”
Sarah continued to smile. “Hans’ mother’s sister butchered a pig, and made sausage. She gave me two sausages, Agatha! Two.” And with that Sarah opened her hand. Wrapped in a handkerchief were two, fat sausages, waiting to be eaten. Agatha almost cried.
Later as the last of the bread sopped in sausage fat was eaten, Agatha reached over the table and grabbed Sarah’s hand. She did not cry but her eyes were misty. “Sister,” she said. “The house is not so empty when you are here.”