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carried them away from me to one of the concentration camps. I didn't wave goodbye to them or shed a single tear because I had to stay undercover. I watched their sad faces be driven away from me. That night nightmares had filled my mind of all the possible things that could have happened to them. I worried about them and I tossed and turned in my small bed. I had gotten very little or no sleep the next of nights. The next couple of days were very rough for me too. I happened to be alone during the day while my neighbors had done their errands. This was what had happened to me for numerous amount of years. There were times where my neighbors had took me to some places outside of the house. I watched some public book burnings. The flames shined brightly in my face reminding me of the bright smile I used to see in my moms face before she was marked with a yellow star and taken away from me. In the year 1953 I decided to live on my own. My neighbors didn't disagree. They had given me some currency and shortly after I had left. All I had with me was a small trunk with my possessions in it. I walked all the way to my dads old shop. It was still for sale. I looked inside to see everything I remembered about it. I loved this little shop so I had bought it. I opened a little sweet shop and named it after my old name. I had really good business. People loved the little hard candies and chocolate I sold. Once a german man came in and gave a some restitution money and the house that I lived in with my family before we moved. He told me it was for there crimes against my family. I took that money and lived in that house even to this day. The shop I had bloomed and prospered quickly. Thirty years later I had gave my shop to my three children and I had retired in peace. The peace of the gentle breeze comforted me as tears were now streaking down my face. I stood up carefully and slowly walked back towards the yellow house. When I entered the house I rested my hands on the piece of history that I live on. More memories of my family filled my mind. Suddenly my hand touches a small envelope. I pick it up and carefully open it up and read what was written on the inside. It was a letter from my family. It said that they had been in Poland at the concentration camp called AuschwitzBirkenau. They told me not to worry if they were to die and that I should carry on living my life without them. Then it abruptly ended. A new handwriting that I've never
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