The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas

by John Boyne

‘No, not them,’ said Bruno. ‘The people I see from my window. In the huts, in the distance. They’re all dressed the same.’ ‘Ah, those people,’ said Father, nodding his head and smiling slightly. ‘Those people … well, they’re not people at all, Bruno.’ Bruno frowned. ‘They’re not?’ he asked, unsure what Father meant by that.

‘Heil Hitler,’ he said, which, he presumed, was another way of saying, ‘Well, goodbye for now, have a pleasant afternoon.’