The girl began to sob so uncontrollably that Papa was dying to pull her into him and hug her tight. He didn’t. Instead, he squatted down and watched her directly in the eyes. He unleashed his quietest words so far. ‘Verstehst du mich? Do you understand me?’ The girl nodded. She cried, and now, defeated, shattered, her papa held her in the painted air and the kerosene light. ‘I understand, Papa, I do.’ Her voice was muffled against his body, and they stayed like that for a few minutes, Liesel with squashed breath, and Papa rubbing her back.
