Although Abigail enjoyed train journeys, she hated it when there were busy crowds. The adults always towered high above her and their heavy overcoats wafted in front of her face, blocking out the light. She let out a sigh and wondered why no-one was talking. After spotting a small gap, she squeezed into it to give herself some more room. The yellow badge that was pinned to her jacket ripped off and fell to the floor, causing someone above her to tut loudly; Abigail decided not to pick it up again.
She spotted a man in a smart uniform – surely, he must know where they were going. “Excuse me,” she politely enquired. “Where are we going?”
The man’s expression was one of death. “Auschwitz,” he replied.