“When did you become a Yiddish dictionary?” Hania asked with a chuckle. “A deal with a paskudnik is still a deal.”

“Not a fair one for you.”

The words must have come across harsher than I’d intended, because her amusement transformed into a sudden glare. “I’d tell Kommandant Höss to drop dead if that’s what Protz wanted, so long as he gives me what I ask for in return. We have an agreement, which is more than you can say about your paskudnik—or has Fritzsch started showering you with presents every time you win a chess game?”

Fritzsch was all it took to rob me of words. Hania must have regretted mentioning him, considering her scowl disappeared, but I crossed my arms against a gust of wind and took a few steps down the empty street. The snow had stopped, replaced by silence, as hazy as the gray sky above.

In a place where death was nearly unavoidable, we combatted it however we could. Survival was the endgame strategy, but each prisoner played differently, and fairness was irrelevant. Death had no regard for fairness.

Hania sighed and intertwined her arm with mine. “Je suis désolé, shikse,” she murmured, which wasn’t fair, either. She knew French was my favorite of her languages. “No need to worry about me, though. All things considered, the price I pay is insignificant. Besides, Protz won’t touch me unless I’m clean enough to meet his standards, so every meeting includes a proper shower and thoroughly washed uniform.”

Although cleanliness was almost more enticing than food, even that wasn’t worth the cost. I took her hand and made one final attempt. “Please don’t go, Hania. Let’s keep walking.”

She scoffed. “How do you expect that to be received? ‘Forgive me, Herr Scharführer, I didn’t pay you back because I was on a walk.’” She imitated Protz’s smirk and lowered her pitch to mimic his. “‘No need to repay me, 15177, the pleasure is mine. Here’s a dozen loaves of challah I baked with my own hands, five bars of lavender soap, and the warmest wool coat money can buy. Only the best for my untermensch.’”

I tried not to reward her with my laughter, but her impression was too accurate, so I didn’t succeed. The humor vanished from her eyes, and the usual guarded look took its place.

“By the way, last night I hovered around the roll-call square so Fritzsch would see me and challenge me to a chess game. Kommandant Höss showed up, like you said he would, and he found us right as Fritzsch was celebrating his win,” I said while she pulled me close once more, providing a slight buffer against the frigid wind.