"Dr. Khalil, we've received word of an incoming group from the countryside of Austria. They've made their way to a home here in Berlin. It is the address you mentioned earlier."

"Very well, Max," said the doctor. "You may go home. Thank you for all you have done. I must now handle the rest of this alone."

The young German man held his ground. "How could you have known? Doctor, in the few days we have become well-acquainted, have we not? You have never been wrong. About anything. I cannot simply forget this happened and walk away. It is as if you—"

"I was not sent here to give your life purpose, my friend. It was God who led you to me."

You gave my life purpose. Max was going to say just that. It was as if the doctor could predict his thoughts and rebut him before he even had a chance. This created a sensation of profound astonishment which washed over Max, leaving him speechless.

Dr. Khalil smiled, putting his hand on Max's shoulder. "You will use what you have learned here to change the world for the better. I believe that is your purpose. If it is as you say and I am never wrong, you should feel quite confident hearing my words, yes?"

The doctor donned his coat and took his bag, making his way for the door of the humble Berlin home.

"Wait," Max said, reaching out to stop him. "You came here all the way from Egypt during these restless times, and I have yet to know what your purpose is. Please, if there is more I must know, I beg you! Tell me now, or I will be left with regret for the rest of my life!"

"What you choose to regret is up to you, my boy. May God bless you."

Max pondered this. What I choose to regret is up to me, so I must ensure I regret nothing. I must follow my purpose and no longer dwell on the past.

.✪.

"He's been sleeping all day. Comatose, almost. Hm, it's a bad sign," Nathaniel told Camilla as they stood by Emil's bed.

They observed his breathing patterns. Some little things about Emil's state stood out, such as how he would ball his fist whenever the room was completely quiet.

"I don't want to say this," Camilla spoke softly to Nathaniel. "I felt like this was going to happen. Something inside me told me Emil was . . ."

"Don't be harsh with yourself," Nathaniel said, sitting on the bed and moving some pillows toward Emil. "You know, when we were children, Emil would frequently hit his head. He ran straight into a tree one time, and I saw it happen. Hm, that was a nasty concussion."

"Do you think that may still have an effect on him, then?"

"I'm not quite sure, but I would say it likely has nothing to do with that incident."

"Then what?" Camilla asked, avoiding eye contact with Nathaniel. "If such a thing happened to Emil, it could leave serious long-term damage. I know this as I have battled with these terrible seizures throughout my life."

"Hm, well, you did say you had a 'feeling' this would happen, didn't you?"

"Are you implying—"

Camilla turned to Nathaniel and stared at him not with a scowl, but with a blank expression of outrage.

"No, no, I did not mean . . ." Nathaniel said, then taking a breath to calm himself. "I simply have a feeling as well. You see, I once knew this surgeon. He was the man who treated our mother. He said to me that after the human mind is traumatized, it may shut down for long periods of time to cleanse itself."

Camilla's tension eased, but a nervous shudder shot through her spine. "I'm sorry, Nathaniel. You're right. I do know there are things Emil has seen. They must be horrible things, but I do not know what they could be. He hasn't told me."

"Hm, that's quite typical of him."

"Nathaniel, I must ask you something which I hope does not insult you."

Nathaniel nodded. "You can ask me anything you like, Camilla."

"Does Emil . . . resent you?"

Nathaniel had to think about it. During the silence, Emil balled his fist. Nathaniel observed his brother closely. He wondered, does my brother hate me? Despise me?

"No, he has no reason to!" Nathaniel's wrath unleashed itself. "Our father always favored Emil! Hm, it must have been obvious, he was given a name to honor my father's Lutheran faith. Martin Luther's initials, M-L . . . That is the name our father decided to give my twin brother. He was favored just for that . . . So he could not be the one to hate me! He thinks he must act as if he does not remember me? So be it!"

Camilla watched for a moment as Nathaniel cried with his head buried in the sheets.

"I'm sorry," Camilla said, for there was nothing else to say.

"I'm not going to leave you, brother. I'll make sure you're well again, I promise!"

.✪.

"I understand your son's grief, Frau Weiss," Camilla said, "but he seemed quite disturbed by the fact that Emil didn't recognize him. Nathaniel holds a grudge, it seems."

"You have no right to judge him, little girl," Frau Weiss said. "You don't know a thing about Nathaniel. He is nothing like Emil. He is a loyal young man, and he cares for Emil. It is Emil who must hold a grudge."

Camilla was appalled, but chose to keep her words respectful. "I understand I have little credibility, Frau Weiss. I am simply worried for Emil. Please, we must bring him a doctor, immediately. My mother and I can pay for the best doctor in town, and—"

"Enough! I am getting rid of you. Get your mother and that smelly rabbi out of our home!"

"Please don't do this! Emil is my best friend, I still haven't told him how I feel . . . I need him to be alive, I will give anything."

"You'll never have a chance to tell him anything, because you won't be seeing him again."

"Smelly rabbi? I am a respected individual, I'll have you know." Udo, previously eavesdropping, drunkenly staggered through the hallway and into the conversation.

Frau Weiss saw the half-empty bottle of liquor in Udo's hand. "Did you steal that from my cabinet? You disrespectful, disgusting man!"

"What? Come here, I'll show you!"

Udo took the bottle by its neck and smashed it against the wall, creating a weapon consisting of broken glass shards.

"Rabbi, no!"