“Meet me here the Thursday after next,” he said. “I’ll have a kennkarte.” “I don’t trust you,” I said. “You can trust me or not,” Nowak said. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be here Thursday. You don’t want the papers, someone else will buy them.” “This is my life,” I said again. Nowak shrugged, stomped out his cigarette, lit a new one. Walking home without the necklace, I felt surprisingly light. What was this lightness? It didn’t make sense. And then I realized: I had given it away. I had given everything away. This was the lightness that came with the freedom from hope. I practically floated all
...more
