Barreling down rue Blanche, I noticed a brunette in an elegant blue jacket, a yellow star on her lapel. I froze, hurt pride suddenly the farthest thing from my mind. Jewish people could no longer teach, enter parks, or even cross the Champs-Élysées. They couldn’t use phone booths. They had to sit in the last car of the metro. Continuing in my direction, the brunette raised her chin, but her mouth quivered. I’d heard about the yellow stars, but this was the first one I’d seen.
