The fingers, the little fingers waved in Pino’s mind, and the mother of the sick girl, and the father who’d wanted his son saved. They’d gone to Auschwitz just a few weeks before. Are they dead? Poisoned and burned? Or are they slaves retreating toward Berlin?
What a haunting image, especially the whole paragraph where he described the train departing for Auschwitz. This is gonna be in my nightmare for days to come
