“After all, what else was there for me? Take over the farm when my father died? No, thank you. Farming is back-breaking work for very little reward and even less respect. And I could hardly endure being in the same room with my father, much less work for him the rest of my life. (Punch first and punch second, that was my dear departed papa’s motto.)

“Lie about my age to join the army and get my head blown off? (All so sixty years later we can ignore the Holocaust and pretend the Germans are good guys?) But back then, if you didn’t fight you were a coward. Of course, two wars later, the young men were encouraged to go to Canada, to avoid responsibilities to their country. If they fought, and lived, their reward was to be spit upon at the airport. It just goes to prove, nothing changes faster than the mind of an American.

“No, life wasn’t exactly a bowl of fresh peaches. I was in a box, and each side of the box was equally insurmountable. I wasn’t the only one, but I was the only one who noticed the shape and size of the prison. I was always different from my chums. At least, I think I was…it was a long time ago, and don’t we always think we’re different?

“So when Darak—that was his name, or at least the name he gave me—bought me a drink, then two, then ten, I didn’t turn him down. What did I care if a stranger wanted to help me forget about the box? I was big—twenty-three years working on a farm made for a big boy—and if he wanted to get inappropriate, I was sure I could handle it.

“Yes, there was homosexuality in the forties. People like to pretend it’s a modern invention, which always makes me laugh. Anyway, I figured Darak wanted to see what I had inside my drawers, but I had no intention of showing him—what men did with other men was none of my concern. Of course, my drawers weren’t what held his interest at all.

“I’d been supremely confident I could toss Darak through a window if I needed to, which just goes to show I was something of a naive moron when I was a boy. Darak took what he needed from me, and never mind pretty words or even asking permission. He stopped my heart and left me on a filthy floor to breathe my last. The last thing I remember was a rat scampering across my face, how the tail felt, dragging across my mouth.