_____________________________ August, 1945. An undiluted sun falls on an indifferent land, the air is still but laden with promise. A solitary field f...ll of shooting beets and potatoes, green and tan and rich, the yielding crops well fed on the blood of hundreds of men and women and children that have fallen on their flight over this very ground not so long ago. A man and a woman on their knees, picking weeds that have grown between rows of crops, killing pests that cling to once-verdant leaves. I have no need for complications in my personal life. But Cyra had a hunger in her eyes that made me hard. A hunger that I wanted to take what I needed from. I downed the rest of my scotch and replied, “I understand. What do I owe you for the CD, Cyra?”“Nothing. Consider it a gift, please,” she smiled to hide her anxiety and hoped I would agree with her request to talk another time.I stood to leave, placed a one-hundred dollar bill on the bar and replied, “Thank you for the CD. Allow me buy you. More

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