"Slowly, I gathered the pieces of paper and made my way over to the overturned bed, trying not to look at our paintings on the wall. At tour hot-air balloon or the stars or the flying fish or the rabbits and the blackbirds. I carefully set the papers on one of the crates and began cleaning up. I righted the cot and pulled the mattress back onto it, laid the quilt across it, swept up the broken glass, set the frame back up, re-set the tarp so that it made the little tent around the bed. I crawled under it and onto the bed, covering myself with the blanket, which smelled like him.
How proud he'd be of me when he came back. He would come back to a clean room, organized sketches, clean floor. Just the way it was. I took one of the pillows and set it next to me and covered it with one of his shirts, then curled up into myself next to it, pressing my face into the cotton, trying to remember what it was like sleeping next to him. But before I closed my eyes and let the tears come, I reached over and grabbed his sketchbook and hugged it to my chest. "Goodnight, Benjamin," I said. "I'll be here when you come back."
-Excerpt from "The Paper Stars", my WIP novel.
So this is Sara curled up on Benjamin's bed wearing his old sweater, after she comes home from Dachau, waiting for him to "come home", even though she knows he's dead.
everything (c) me