Esther hustles her giggling grandchildren into the store from the rain.
They tug her arms, begging her to chase them.
“You forget, your bubbe ist old,” she laughs in broken English.
Lightning strikes, illuminating one of the paintings for sale. Esther halts.
“What?” asks one of the kids.
Esther lowers her shawl as she nears the painting labeled “family unknown.” The man, wife, and six children smile, unaware they’d soon die in the concentration camps. All but one.
Esther grabs her darlings and points. “Meine familie.”