Page 242 - The Book Thief

deep inside it, The Standover Man resided. She mouthed the words and touched

the birds. She turned the noisy pages, slowly.

Goodbye, Frau Hermann.

She exited the library, walked down the floorboard hall and out the monstrous
doorway. As was her habit, she stood for a while on the steps, looking at
Molching beneath her. The town that afternoon was covered in a yellow mist,
which stroked the rooftops as if they were pets and filled up the streets like a
bath.

When she made it down to Munich Street, the book thief swerved in and out of
the umbrellaed men and womena rain-cloaked girl who made her way without
shame from one garbage can to another. Like clockwork.

There!

She laughed up at the coppery clouds, celebrating, before reaching in and taking
the mangled newspaper. Although the front and back pages were streaked with
black tears of print, she folded it neatly in half and tucked it under her arm. It
had been like this each Thursday for the past few months.

Thursday was the only delivery day left for Liesel Meminger now, and it was
usually able to provide some sort of dividend. She could never dampen the
feeling of victory each time she found a Molching Express or any other
publication. Finding a newspaper was a good day. If it was a paper in which the
crossword wasnt done, it was a great day. She would make her way home, shut
the door behind her, and take it down to Max Vandenburg.

Crossword? he would ask.

Empty.

Excellent.

The Jew would smile as he accepted the package of paper and started reading in
the rationed light of the basement. Often, Liesel would watch him as he focused
on reading the paper, completed the crossword, and then started to reread it,
front to back.