The train was stuffy. Too many people filled it with their fearful breathing. Hazel squeezed Flora’s hand. Her eyes were so wide, taking in the other frightened children, the battered suitcases and ragged knapsacks, the pillowcases stuffed with clothes. “Hazel, will there be a river of stars?” her sister asked. “Absolutely,” Hazel stated, attempting the authority of a grown-up telling lies.
