To the market

Avoiding attention is something I’ve struggled to do ever since I was a teenager. Everywhere I go, I can count on men noticing me and looking at me. I’ve heard some good pickup lines, and I’ve heard the worst of them. The worst of them usually come from the men who have had too much vodka.

Because of this, I try to look as unassuming as possible. I put on a headscarf to cover my long dark hair. I tie it in the front and wear my coat over it. Sasha dresses in the same manner.

Shortly, we are ready to leave. Sasha’s uncle gives us directions, and gives some money to Sasha.

“Be careful!” He reminds us as we head out the door and down the stairs.

“This is it.” I say as I push open the front door. It’s the first time either of us have set foot outside since we’ve been occupied.

We walk close together with our heads down. The market is nearby, only a handful of blocks away. I cautiously look about the streets as we edge closer.

The ground trembles with a terrifying noise. A massive German tank rumbles up the street and passes us. It’s fast. I can’t do anything but stand in awe at the sheer size of it. If I wasn’t on edge already, I certainly am now. Luckily, they don’t seem to pay the two of us any mind. They don’t even slow down.

We’re lucky to not see any foot soldiers the rest of the way to the market. Everything seems to be going to plan as we arrive. In no time at all we are in front of a stand, where Sasha buys the bag of flour we came to get.

We turn around to face two big, grey chests. The chests of two fascist soldiers, looking down at us from under their helmets, rifles slung over their shoulders.

“Hallo mädchen!” One of them says excitedly. I can feel my face turning pale as the blood rushes away. I’m paralyzed. Sasha is too. She stands next to me frozen like a statue.

“Was macht ihr?” The other asks us. I understand him but my throat burns too much to speak. I tremble in my coat.

“Was hast du?” He asks Sasha.

I pat Sasha on her arm with the back of my hand. She awkwardly holds the bag of flour up.

He approaches her, places his hand on the back of hers and eases the bag back into her body.

“Ihr zwei sind sehr hübsche mädchen!” says with a creepy grin.

“Ja! Ihr solltet mit uns Kommen!” The other adds, looking directly at me.

The one in front of Sasha reaches his hand up to touch her cheek. She recoils in disgust.

“Hey!” He yells and tries to grab her.

“Ich mag deinen mantel.” The other says to me, ignoring the struggle which is happening next to us. “Es ist sehr schön.”

“No!” Sasha yells as she breaks free from him. He rips her scarf off in the process.

The one in front of me stops talking and watches as his friend angrily tears the bag of flour out of Sasha’s hands and throws it violently on the ground. It explodes all over the pavement at her feet.

He reaches out for her again but the one in front of me grabs him.

“Du idiot! Du hast alles vermasselt!” He barks at his friend, shaking him. “Das nachste mal werde ich reden!”

“Es ist nicht meine schuld!” The other argues.

“Es ist wie beim letzen mal...” the other starts.

They look back to find us gone.

We walk as fast as we can, making a break for home. We’re careful not to run and draw any more attention to ourselves. I look over my shoulder, but don’t see them anywhere. We blend into the mid-day crowd and make it back to the apartment.

We breathe a sigh of relief as we close the door behind us.