it all started with the war. the germans had been blasting the hell out of calais on and off for a couple of days. we could hear the fighting getting closer by the hour and the unending thunder of dive bombers and tank fire. our city had little defence, but luckily the british army showed up with the 60th rifles the day before. they fought hard but it wasn’t enough. two days after the german offensive, the brits retreated and calais fell. of course, you weren’t asking about the war. you were asking about peter. i still remember that sound. the sound that was really no sound at all. when my ears worked again i could hear war. it was everywhere. then he appeared from nowhere. like he had just been there all along, just…my eyes had failed to see him. he loved a grand entrance. that was peter’s way. it’s strange. i was sad for the others who had died in the blast. but somehow i’d already grieved for them. maybe deep down i knew that was eventually going to happen. peter was the way out. as much as i was afraid to go, there was this brave look on his face. like all his troubles were behind him, even though our city was crumbling all around us