Life in the City Page 4
THE OLD MAN
“GO HOME, YOU DIRTY JEW!”
They had said that just before they burned down his house. It didn’t matter who they were. Their faces would melt into a crowd, but the voice—the voice is always the same—a cruel voice, and a voice that is filled with hate. It was a vicious little thing that laughed in the face of human suffering. He had first heard the voice during the war. So many other things had dimmed over the years—the faces of his wife and children for instance—but the one thing he couldn’t forget was that voice.
The old man winced as he remembered…