Verena was just about to leave when a voice stopped her. Taking her out of her grim stupor, she blinked in surprise when a very blonde woman with piercing blue eyes stood before her. They had people like this Poland? Back home, the Fuhrer spoke of how the brothers and sisters in Poland were disgraceful creatures to the Aryan standard of beauty. Yet, here stood a woman whom completely shattered that preconception. Why, if she were in Germany, she'd be highly sought after! A shame the woman was born in this god forsaken country that spelt her people's blood. It made her think of the many other women that surpassed her in the Aryan beauty. What a sad thought it was.

It took all of Verena's control to not go slack-jaw in surprise. "You can speak German?" she asked. She brought her hands away from her face. She must've looked terrible. Her clothes were still stained with dried blood, her normally well-kept blonde hair ill-kept, and smudges of grime smeared across her face that only made her pale-green eyes stand out more. Truthfully, she wanted nothing. "If you have any black coffee, fraulein, that'll do. After today, I don't have the stomach to eat anything. Are you originally from the fatherland? You lack the distasteful polish accent. A horrid thing it is." 

A commotion drew her attention outside as she saw three soldiers walk down the streets. She scoffed indignantly as the three caroled a cohort of people wearing the yellow star on their arms. Jews. Mixed feelings crawled through her skin. She welled with pride that the soldiers were helping ridding the blight on the world, yet she felt sorrow as well. They were people too.

"How you poles tolerate [i]them[/i] confounds me," she said, oblivious to the waitress. The other soldiers in the cafe were making crude remarks to the passing caravan of prisoners. "Yet, how we treat them astounds me as well..."

It took only seconds for Verena to fully comprehend what she said out loud. Her eyes went directly to the soldiers. She sagged in some relief that they hadn't heard her. If they did, she'd be thrown into that sad looking herd and marched away. "Excuse me, I ramble. The coffee please."