I pushed at the cans with my foot and the food got stuck on my shoes. Finally, at the very bottom, we found four undamaged cans. The labels were destroyed but the cans were intact. I took the board from Lou and dragged them toward me. Then I peeled off my T-shirt and used it as a pot holder.

We brought them with us, moving away and sitting alone a little way from the burned-out ruins. I opened a can that turned out to contain beans.

They were steaming.

We shared the beans. Once again we shared her stolen goods. And I didn’t manage to say anything today either. I was too hungry. I gobbled up the food like a dog.

We were dogs, all of us.

Lou was sniffling as she ate, drying her tears with quick movements. “They were supposed to be for us, Daddy. For us and the boat. We were supposed to take them with us and live there. Francis helped me. We collected the cans and hid them under the floor of the women’s shower.”

I was unable to answer. I was afraid I would start crying myself. And besides . . . what would I say? She knew that stealing was wrong. All children know it. Anna and I had taught her that. But all the same, she had stolen again, because her hunger was controlling her thoughts. Overpowering everything else.

And me. Regardless, I had nothing to say. Damn dog that I was.

She stood up, brushing the ashes off her clothing. “I want to go to bed now.”

Hall 4 looked the same as before. Our beds were waiting, just like before. The bag in the closet. Our home was intact, I caught myself thinking. But this wasn’t a home. Just an old warehouse full of military cots. And we were refugees. A refugee has no home. Home was what we had lost.

Lou fell asleep right away. I was sitting at her bedside when Marguerite came in. She sat there, just as passive as before, just as listless.

I’m a sack, I thought. There are no bones in me. No skeleton. Just flesh, fat, a soft mass.

Marguerite stood beside me. She said nothing. It took me a while to turn around and look at her. She was crying.

“Francis . . . he’s . . .”

And then she said it, using many words to express something very simple. I didn’t look at her, heard only how she fretted on and on. I knew from the start what she was going to say. Knew it the minute I saw him emerge from the flames, that this wouldn’t end well.

“Sorry,” she said softly. “I told her we should leave, I wanted to take her away, but she just ran. Straight in.”

“I never asked you to watch her,” I said. There was a coldness in my voice, coming from I didn’t know where.