Long, thick dark hair. Her waist was so narrow that her husband easily reached around her waist with his hands. She was young, only twenty years old. He was tall and slim, twentyseven years old.
You could feel the smell of early autumn. The leaves on the trees had just started to fell. There were a mix of green, orange, yellow and brown.
Her name was Eva and on her knee her first doughter sat, her second doughter was playing on the floor, and in her stomack her third child was growing.
His name was Hans, and he stood behind the chair where Eva sat with their first doughter.
Someone stood in front of them trying to tell them that they had come to get their children. Take, their children. Their two doughters. They were four, one woman and three men.
Silence. And chock.
You could feel the smell of early autumn. In that moment some leaves fell off and reached the ground.
The small children could feel their parents fear.
Eva didn’t said anything. They were up to take her two doughters, she heard them say that. But that was like unreal. Too unreal to understand.
When one of the men reached his arms and took the doughter she had on her knees, then the silence was broken. The child started to scream. One of the other took the girl on the floor and she also started to scream.
EvaMari was eighteen months. Ingrid was five months.
The room, and their brains, was filled with the echo from the screaming girls.
You could feel the smell of early autumn.
A piece of history was just written. In the year of 1965.
Soon the trees would have shed all their leaves.