643
1945
“Momma, why is he wearing a sign?” David asked as they waited in the freezing cold rain.
“Quiet,” Sugar whispered, pushing David toward the laborers scooping out what had been their daily ration for three and a half years: a half cup of vegetables and two scraps of bread.
David kept staring at the man, so Sugar turned around and glanced at him. She recognized him as the man who tried to steal David’s food two days before. A wire wrapped around his neck was holding a piece of cardboard upon which the Japanese soldiers had written one word:
Thief.