The Fountain of Youth

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Shimmering stars from fresh droplets of rain beautified the otherwise vile streets of Riga. It was late, late in so many ways. The war was looming and for the company it was too late to turn back. Even Ami knew it, and she’d been so obsessed with her performance career that not even World War II had been deemed reason enough to take a break. And why should it? At sixteen years of age she was in the prime of her youth and the world awaited her, but even she admitted to feeling somewhat apprehensive about what was coming.

The reality pressed upon them all, but Ami vowed to do everything in her power to keep the minds of her colleagues off the dangers of touring Europe. In the imminent shadow nearing her Baltic home, they could all feel the hellish breath of the volatile dragon that crawled at the feet of the SS in Germany.

Ami stared out over the almost deathly silent streets, playing witness only to half-hearted solicitations by drunken men and desperate women in the shelter of the night below the Orfeju Opera House. Her ankles ached under her slender frame, something that came only with overexertion or sickness. Either way, it was her secret to keep. Through tear-riddled blue eyes she gazed into the cold night, counting the steeples between her and the shoreline where the ocean lapped gently in invitation.

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