A small flicker, a smoldering ember. If left unchecked, it can become a raging inferno, consuming everything in its path. Unless someone stands tall and douses the flames. Four tales of courage
As Told to Brachi Zeivald by Esther Karpul
I was 19 when it happened.
I lived in Communist Russia, where I was studying engineering in university. It was the end of a grueling day, and I was back in my small apartment, doing my homework, when my pencil point broke. (All sketching was done by hand — who had a computer at home?) I couldn’t find my sharpener anywhere, so I headed to the kitchen to look for a sharp knife.
There was a tremendous crash. CRASH! The toilet in the bathroom had just cracked. Instantly, I realized someone had broken into the house through the unbarred bathroom window.
I tensed. I was a young girl, in an empty apartment, and I knew I was in serious danger. I couldn’t flee the apartment — to do so, I’d need to pass the bathroom, which would mean risking a head-on confrontation with a presumably armed burglar.
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