Peter sits in the lobby of the child protection shelter which he finds refuge in while his sister is out on the job. The other day an Aryan mirage appeared to him and seemed to show some kind of kindness, though her voice remained, as ever, monotone and distant. He would never forget her, and as his feet grew cold in the waiting room, he rang her as one in a trance, guided by some puppet master he would never know nor comprehend.
Even in the heart of such darkness, he may find memories to cling to.
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