I’m annoyed that they keep talking about this letter; my skin crawls just at the thought of Aunt Chana seeing it
Sunday brings another meeting. Uncle Yossi is back, and Aunt Chana and Uncle Chaim. The two men sit at the head of the table, on either side of Zeidy, and they’re mostly quiet, aside from the occasional phone call or beeping of a message coming in.
Aunt Chana is sitting with me and Yaakov, and she’s determined to pursue any clue we can possibly think of.
“Did your parents ever say anything about emergency? A plan? A number to call? Anything?” she keeps asking us.
“I don’t think they ever thought something like this would happen,” I say, a little helplessly.
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