“Which one is your block?” Cibi asks her sister urgently, taking her hand. But Magda doesn’t move for a moment. She is staring at Cibi as if she’s finally seeing her. She looks her up and down slowly, touches her short hair, her shoulders, arms. “What have they done to you, Cibi?” Magda is crying again, but Cibi can’t do this right now. She knows what she looks like, she knows her face is gaunt and her body fleshless. They need to keep moving.
