From her chair at the kitchen table, Anna watches as Josef’s head turns towards the window. They can both hear them: the troops marching along the cobbled streets below their fifth floor flat. Her son may only be six, but in the Prague of 1941 children grow up quickly – he already knows these soldiers are ‘bad men‘ and has vowed to protect his mother while father remains away.
Picking up Josef’s thin summer coat, Anna resumes her work. Licking the thread she carefully feeds the fine white cotton into the eye of the needle. As she stitches, the bright yellow star glows gently in the warm morning sunlight.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.