Zie Americans are Stealing our Flowers!

Pieces of  memories from places far away 

She pulled her jacket a little tighter around her as they strolled together through the neighborhood. The night air was cool, making her shiver slightly as she looked around at the perfectly maintained streets. She glanced over, looking up at him as he walked beside her. They had traveled a long way to get to this small suburb in Germany, driving through Europe to reach the city of Bremen. As they turned down the street they were looking for, she let out a small breath, unable to stop the grin as he glanced down at her, mischief in his eyes.

“Are we really gonna do this?” he asked, looking around. She looked around too, relieved that the street was empty. This was where her Grandmother had grown up during the second world war.

“Well, my grandma paid for our hotel and helped us set up this trip…I wanna bring back something meaningful.” She said

“True…” he replied. “And theft is always one of the most meaningful of gifts.”

She laughed, punching his arm playfully before pulling out a plastic bag. “Pressed flowers from the street she grew up on are a meaningful gift. Are you gonna help me, or just stand there and watch?”

“Oh no, I’m definitely gonna help” he said. “It’s no fun if only one of us winds up in German prison.”

She rolled her eyes as she plucked a flower from the nearest front yard they were walking past, trying to stifle her laughter as he crouched low, holding up his hands in the shape of a gun as if he were some covert operative. They walked slowly down the street, stepping carefully onto people’s lawns to pick flowers from their gardens.

“Ouch!” He exclaimed, sticking his fingers in his mouth. “These flowers have a defense mechanism!”  

“You seem awfully surprised that roses have thorns.” She whispered, trying to keep her voice down.

“You’re making me do this in the dark!” he said, “Maybe I could have seen the thorns if we weren’t trying so hard not to get caught.” He lifted the tone of his voice, speaking in a ridiculous caricature of a German accent. “Zie Americans are stealing our flowers!!! Help, Police! You must arrest zem! Or shall ve kill zem for you?!”

She stifled her laughter even as she shushed him, listening carefully for voices inside the nearest house. She took a few steps up their driveway, only to be caught by the motion light as it snapped on. They both jumped about a foot into the air, giggling like idiots as they rushed back to the sidewalk. “I think we have enough flowers to press into a frame,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t you?”

“Yep,” he said, grinning. “Plenty.” She tucked the bag of flowers into her jacket as they turned down the next street, taking his hand as he offered it to her. 

“And no one wound up in prison!” she said. 

“They’ll be kicking down our door in the middle of the night, I’m sure.” he said.

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