This week’s Friday Fictioneer’s photo is this:
The ferryboat left the harbour at dawn. The children sat at a separate table, drinking hot chocolate, laughing.
If all went well they would soon be in Switzerland far from the fascist police, if they were lucky.
A short trip, no more than 45 minutes, 19 kilometres to Lugano. Two stops though before they would be safe.
Moshe Ovadia had worked in the municipality of Milan, he’d joined the “party” to avoid problems and keep his job. Now he and his family were pariah, fugitives. All because of his name. He didn’t understand.
The ferry stopped and the police boarded.
Word Count: 100