"Not so loud, my friend," warned Hans, "they have spies everywhere."
Hans was sad remembering Weimar days when Berlin used to be the party capital of the world: mind-altering drugs at the local chemist then pretty women, beer and decadence at the clubs which sprinkled Berlin like stars.
Now the National Socialists considered themselves the new drug, the opium of the people. He passed Brownshirts, as always masking his contempt for the beer-swilling hooligans.
Hans thought about Sarah. Naturally, he had no idea how brutal the years ahead would be.