love under the naz** it ** cold on th** winter day in 1942.but it ** no different from any other day in th** nazi concentration camp.i am almost dead,surviving from day to day,from hour to hour,ever since i was taken from my home and brought here with tens of thousands of other jews.we suffer under the whips of the terrible naz**.will i still be alive tomorrow?will i be taken to the gas chamber tonight?or will a security guard simply shoot me with h** rifle?back and forth i walk next to the wire fence.i am not thinking about my steps;i am moving mechanically across the landscape,kneeling on occasion when i think i see a bit of timber or other item that i can use to start a fire.suddenly,i notice a young girl walking past on the other side of the wire.she has the light,gr**ity-free steps of a fairy.she stops and looks at me with sad eyes.the camp has taken its toll on me.i want to look away,as i feel oddly ashamed for th** stranger to see me like th**,sickly thin and in torn,stained clothing,but i cannot take my eyes from hers.then she reaches into her pocket,and pulls out a red apple.oh,how long has it been since i h**e seen one!and how th** one shines—greater than any crystal!she looks cautiously around,and then quickly throws the apple over the fence.i pick it up and hold it in my frozen fingers.in my world of death,th** apple ** an expression of life,and her act ** the product of love.i glance up in time to see the girl d**appearing into the d**tance.the next day,i am drawn to that spot near the fence,as if pulled by a magnetic force.am i crazy for hoping she will come again?of course.but in here,i cling to any tiny trace of hope.again,she comes.and again,she brings me an apple,flinging it over the fence with greater prec**ion than before so that the apple flies over the fence and drops directly above me.i catch it as it ** descending.i hold it up for her to see.her eyes shine.for seven months,we meet like th**,andi am becoming accustomed to th** apple diet,but it soon comes to an end.one day i hear frightening news:i am being shipped to another camp.the next day when i greet her,my heart ** breaking,and i can hardly speak as i say what must be said:"do not bring me an apple tomorrow,"i tell her."i am being sent to another camp.we will never see each other again."turning before i lose all control,i run away from the fence.i cannot bear to look back.if i do,i know she would see the tears streaming down my face.years pass.it ** 1957.i am living in new york city,a far cry from the awful scenery of nazi germany.and i h**e achieved a modest amount of prosperity,h**ing gone into the business of aluminum fence installation and recycling.a friend,who ** in the insurance business,convinces me to go on a blind date with a lady friend of h**.reluctantly,i agree.but she ** nice,th** woman named roma.and like me,she ** a foreigner,so we h**e at least that in common."were you exiled during the war?roma asks me gently,in that careful way people with experience ask one another questions about those years.
no.i was in a concentration camp in germany,"i reply.i don't specify which camp,or give any other details right then.telling the story has become tedious,as i h**e done it so many times.roma gets a faraway look in her eyes,as if she ** remembering something painful yet sweet."what ** it?i ask."you see,when i was a young girl,i lived near a concentration camp.there was a boy there,a pr**oner,and for a long while,i used to v**it him every day.i remember i used to purchase apples and throw them to him.i would throw the apple over the fence,and he would be so happy."with my heart pounding loudly,i look directly at roma and ask,"and did that boy say to you one day,'do not bring me an apple tomorrow.i am being sent to another camp'?why,yes,"roma says,her voice trembling."but how on earth could you possibly know that?i get up from the table,embrace her,and answer,"because i was that young boy,roma.