Puppet

Germany, 1945, a feeling can bloom... Another day in this damp and cold basement, I see him enter this tiny room irritated, slam the door with a little force and face everything, his empty and apathetic eyes look at me, honey-colored against the color of the sky, I see tears trailing small trails down your pale cheek, you take me in a hug and lie down on the bed, which was nothing more than an old mattress and a grimy blanket, the war scared him, the war scared me... "I'm afraid of losing you, un..."