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Who: Hans ot anyone
Where: a small cafe
When: Lunchtime , July 07 1941
Hans sat at the cafe nearest to headquarters, having a bit of lunch before he had to return to work. He'd been back at his job a week now, and while the paperwork was by no means physically strenuous, the hours were exhausting. Since the shooting, he tired easily and needed this afternoon break to get his bearings. He tried not to think of the Occitan Cafe, and how he'd enjoyed so many evenings there. It would do him no good to think of such things now.
Since Marie-Pierre left, the primary focus of his life had returned to work. He signed orders and requisitioned supplies as he was expected to. He did his job efficiently and without question. When he saw the strange fuel was coming in more frequently now, and the transports of deportees had likewise increase - he shoved any correlations to the back of his mind. It was not his place to trouble with the why - it was his duty as an officer to obey orders without question. He lost himself in this mindless activity, and was glad of the respite from the pain.
But at times like this, when he sat alone with his glass of water and small sandwich, the hurt came back full force.
He nibbled cautiously on his sandwich, as if he might choke on the feeling.
Where: a small cafe
When: Lunchtime , July 07 1941
Hans sat at the cafe nearest to headquarters, having a bit of lunch before he had to return to work. He'd been back at his job a week now, and while the paperwork was by no means physically strenuous, the hours were exhausting. Since the shooting, he tired easily and needed this afternoon break to get his bearings. He tried not to think of the Occitan Cafe, and how he'd enjoyed so many evenings there. It would do him no good to think of such things now.
Since Marie-Pierre left, the primary focus of his life had returned to work. He signed orders and requisitioned supplies as he was expected to. He did his job efficiently and without question. When he saw the strange fuel was coming in more frequently now, and the transports of deportees had likewise increase - he shoved any correlations to the back of his mind. It was not his place to trouble with the why - it was his duty as an officer to obey orders without question. He lost himself in this mindless activity, and was glad of the respite from the pain.
But at times like this, when he sat alone with his glass of water and small sandwich, the hurt came back full force.
He nibbled cautiously on his sandwich, as if he might choke on the feeling.
discontent