Rolf Adorno pinched the three five-kroner banknotes in his pocket, pondering how to allocate the bread he would buy when he returned.
Karen one and a half pounds, Gretel one pound, himself two and a half pounds…
He shook his head.
Dieter, the neighbor's child, was about the same age as Gretel, yet half a head taller than him. Better give the child one and a half pounds—Karen was ill, if she ate any less, her health would surely collapse.
Then, he would only have two pounds left for himself.
He didn't know if eating so little would allow him to sustain a day's work. Yesterday he ate two and a half pounds, and when he got home at night, he was already too hungry to stand steadily.
But he had no other choice, just hoped the war in Switzerland would end soon, so there would be no need to pay the "special war tax," as said on the notice posted at the street corner. Life should be much easier then.
