Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

Marat Baskin

My day’s work was done, so I was free to go home. But I could barely keep my eyes open, and as l didn’t want to risk falling asleep at the wheel, I decided to take a short nap in my chair. I don’t remember how long I slept, when suddenly I felt someone patting me on my head. It felt just the way papa used to do it when I was little. I opened my eyes --and I saw my grandfather. I knew it was him, although I never met him. When he was killed in the ghetto, I wasn’t born yet.

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