Five Sentence Fiction - Steam

A little tale prompted by Five Sentence Fiction and possibly in respond to my recent holiday where we visited a transit camp from the Second World War. The very idea leaves you cold.

Olga stood on the train platform, the steam whirling round her then pulling away with the train as it left, reflecting how a part of her soul felt as she watched it go. She had no idea when he might be back again, ‘if ever’ her mind whispered, but she didn’t want to face that.

The war had brought them together, surely it wouldn’t tear them apart too?

But there was no telling with the stories the newsreels brought, the horror of more and more fallen soldiers each week. And should he get captured she prayed his family heritage would remain hidden, or the next train might be one of the cattle trucks she’d seen on the newsreel last week, when they boasted about the cleansing in the gas chambers.