Elsa knew that Ralf was probably in his study, where he spent most of the day. She wrinkled her nose as she made her way up the stairs, shoes clicking loudly on the old wood. Soldier business was something she certainly didn't approve of, especially when the conversation turned to vulgarities such as Auschwitz. Elsa knew what went on there, what went on not a mile away from their new home. But she wasn't ready to consider that yet. She had it hidden in the back of her mind, stored for one of those days where you had absolutely nothing else to think about. War was war. But this, no. It wasn't war. It was pure hatred. Sometimes, you have to seperate yourself from those things. Before your life crashes down around you.

Elsa reached her husband's office. She could hear booming voices on the other side of the door, the voice that belonged to Ralf speaking the loudest. He always commanded their attention, the other soldiers. He could make them listen, make them laugh or cry. He could make them do whatever he wanted. He just had that way, Elsa thought. That power. She supposed, with a sinking feeling, that it was one of the reasons she had married him twelve years ago.

But now, as she stood in that lonely hallway, with nothing but a wall and a piece of wood seperating her and her husband, hearing him speak more intimately to his soldiers than he ever did to her, Elsa felt as if someone had closed icy fingers around her throat. No, she couldn't be. Was she...was she really questioning her marriage? She and Ralf had been together for so long. Yet, it seemed as if the romance in their relationship had, well, fizzled lately. There didn't seem to be much of anything there anymore. Elsa and her husband lived two seperate lives, going about their ways happily enough. But sometimes, Elsa found herself craving something else. Something bold. Something that Ralf couldn't give her.