Page 203 - The Book Thief
P. 203
A patch of voice escaped his mouth.
When he saw the upside-down face of a girl above him, there was the fretful
moment of unfamiliarity and the grasp for recollection to decode exactly where
and when he was currently sitting. After a few seconds, he managed to scratch
his head (the rustle of kindling) and he looked at her. His movements were
fragmented, and now that they were open, his eyes were swampy and brown.
Thick and heavy.
As a reflex action, Liesel backed away.
She was too slow.
The stranger reached out, his bed-warmed hand taking her by the forearm.
Please.
His voice also held on, as if possessing fingernails. He pressed it into her flesh.
Papa! Loud.
Please! Soft.
It was late afternoon, gray and gleaming, but it was only dirty-colored light that
was permitted entrance into the room. It was all the fabric of the curtains
allowed. If youre optimistic, think of it as bronze.
When Papa came in, he first stood in the doorway and witnessed Max
Vandenburgs gripping fingers and his desperate face. Both held on to Liesels
arm. I see you two have met, he said.
Maxs fingers started cooling.
