He slumped. The heavy suitcases sat by the door. Father had made his final decision, so there was no use arguing anymore. Although Bruno had spent months wishing to return to Berlin, his heart now ached at the thought of leaving the fence behind. The gray rain streaked down the windowpane like tears while the quiet house felt emptier and colder than it ever had before. Utter defeat.
“We are going home,” Mother whispered softly. How could he leave his best friend without ever saying a proper goodbye? He looked at his boots, thought of Shmuel, and wished he had cherished their time together more. He realized that winning the argument meant losing the only friendship that truly mattered.