Page 509 - The Book Thief

To Papa.

At that point, I couldnt help it. I walked around to see her better, and from the
moment I witnessed her face again, I could tell that this was who she loved the
most. Her expression stroked the man on his face. It followed one of the lines
down his cheek. He had sat in the washroom with her and taught her how to roll
a cigarette. He gave bread to a dead man on Munich Street and told the girl to
keep reading in the bomb shelter. Perhaps if he didnt, she might not have ended
up writing in the basement.

Papathe accordionistand Himmel Street.

One could not exist without the other, because for Liesel, both were home. Yes,
thats what Hans Hubermann was for Liesel Meminger.

She turned around and spoke to the LSE.

Please, she said, my papas accordion. Could you get it for me?

After a few minutes of confusion, an older member brought the eaten case and
Liesel opened it. She removed the injured instrument and laid it next to Papas
body. Here, Papa.

And I can promise you something, because it was a thing I saw many years
latera vision in the book thief herselfthat as she knelt next to Hans Hubermann,
she watched him stand and play the accordion. He stood and strapped it on in the
alps of broken houses and played the accordion with kindness silver eyes and
even a cigarette slouched on his lips. He even made a mistake and laughed in
lovely hindsight. The bellows breathed and the tall man played for Liesel
Meminger one last time as the sky was slowly taken from the stove.

Keep playing, Papa.

Papa stopped.

He dropped the accordion and his silver eyes continued to rust. There was only a
body now, on the ground, and Liesel lifted him up and hugged him. She wept
over the shoulder of Hans Hubermann.