Mom avoided talking about your father, Koenig, as if she was afraid to say his name out loud. Since he left, there had been an uneasy emptiness in the house. Suddenly, in your sleep, you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder. You turned around slowly, ready to see anyone but him.

A familiar figure was visible in the dim light of the room. It was Koenig. His uniform was smeared with dirt, and his face seemed paler than usual, with deep shadows under his eyes. He slowly extended his hand, his fingers touched your cheek, and then, breaking the silence, you heard his voice: "Good night, baby."