Page 157 - The Book Thief

The last thing Max saw was the small mound of hair, sitting casually against the

wall.

Goodbye.

With a clean-shaven face and lopsided yet neatly combed hair, he had walked
out of that building a new man. In fact, he walked out German. Hang on a
second, he was German. Or more to the point, he had been.

In his stomach was the electric combination of nourishment and nausea.

He walked to the station.

He showed his ticket and identity card, and now he sat in a small box
compartment of the train, directly in dangers spotlight.

Papers.

That was what he dreaded to hear.

It was bad enough when he was stopped on the platform. He knew he could not
withstand it twice.

The shivering hands.

The smellno, the stenchof guilt.

He simply couldnt bear it again.

Fortunately, they came through early and only asked for the ticket, and now all

that was left was a window of small towns, the congregations of lights, and the
woman snoring on the other side of the compartment.

For most of the journey, he made his way through the book, trying never to look
up.

The words lolled about in his mouth as he read them.

Strangely, as he turned the pages and progressed through the chapters, it was