The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

Now this rosa moved into action she waddled swiftly

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Unformatted text preview: and placed it in his mouth. One-handed, he tried to light a match. In the dismal weather, it would have been difficult with both hands, but with just the one, it was impossible. He dropped the matchbook and swore. Liesel picked it up. She took his cigarette and put it in her mouth. She, too, could not light it. “You have to suck on it,” the man explained. “In this weather, it only lights when you suck. Verstehst?” She gave it another go, trying to remember how Papa did it. This time, her mouth filled with smoke. It climbed her teeth and scratched her throat, but she restrained herself from coughing. “Well done.” When he took the cigarette and breathed it in, he reached out his uninjured hand, his left. “Michael Holtzapfel.” “Liesel Meminger.” “You’re coming to read to my mother?” Rosa arrived behind her at that point, and Liesel could feel the shock at her back. “Michael?” she asked. “Is that you?” Michael Holtzapfel nodded. “Guten Tag, Frau Hubermann. It’s been a long time.” “You look so . . .” “Old?” Rosa was still in shock, but she composed herself. “Would you like to come in? I see you met my foster daughter. . . .” Her voice trailed off as she noticed the bloodied hand. “My brother’s dead,” said Michael Holtzapfel, and he could not have delivered the punch any better with his one usable fist. For Rosa staggered. Certainly, war meant dying, but it always shifted the ground beneath a person’s feet when it was someone who had once lived and breathed in close proximity. Rosa had watched both of the Holtzapfel boys grow up. The oldened young man somehow found a way to list what happened without losing his nerve. “I was in one of the buildings we used for a hospital when they brought him in. It was a week before I was coming home. I spent three days of that week sitting with him before he died. . . .” “I’m sorry.” The words didn’t seem to come from Rosa’s mouth. It was someone else standing behind Liesel Meminger that evening, but she did not dare to look. “Please....
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This note was uploaded on 01/17/2014 for the course ENG 99 taught by Professor Michal during the Winter '13 term at CSU Sacramento.

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