The introduction: From Joe's POV (major one)

He walked into the apartment and was immediately pushed down into a rickety squeaking chair. His aunt Ethel whirled around the apartment taking things out, and because of her frenzy most of her words were cut off.

“I really do think,” she would say before turning around and busying herself once more.

“And that’s why,” she said gesturing with a spoon rounding back on Joseph.

“Anyway, I just really am grateful he thought of me, y’know?” she said, finishing at last, and placed a meatloaf in front of Joseph.

It smelled lovely, like a lost summer day. It reminded him of the Moldau. He ate it swiftly, and although taking a fair amount of moisture from his mouth he understood it was important that she shared this with him.

“Sammy’s really a good boy, He’s an artist. At empire novelties. He’s getting really very close to a promotion-“ she cut herself off swiftly, having remembered something at the recesses of her mind.

“-I should go wake him, remind him you’re coming.” She left him in the dimly lit kitchen, staring at his own reflection in the oven door. He got up, not having recognized himself, and followed her into Sammy’s room. A bleary-eyed bloke sat tousled in a dark twin bed peeking one eye open with his hair sticking up.  His aunt Ethel rushed over and did something he couldn’t quite see, but heard a sharp intake of breath. Joe stood still, hardly taking breath. Kornblum had helped him focus his physical efforts on other endeavors.

Ethel stood aside and smiled, and gestured for him to sit. She rushed up to Joe and adjusted his collar and swiftly left the room closing the door.

Light strewn in through the edges of the door and the doorway. The light from inside was warmer with a melancholy blue tint. The light coming in through the window was cool and realistic and hit behind Sammy’s back, putting his face in shadow. Joe knew his own face must be easy to see, so he decided that no reaction was better than the wrong one.

He started undressing. He could see the chair and the table. He took off his soft tweed jacket and lightly placed it on the chair. He unbuttoned his shirt, pulled at the corners, and placed that on the chair, leaving him in his undershirt.

Joe lightly placed his stack of assorted magazines and newspapers underneath the chair. When he had gotten in, he immediately went to the nearest newsstand searching for a glimmer of hope in a headline or in an undersigned note. He went so far as to buy the Women’s Wear magazine hoping for a mention of the conditions in Prague.  Most of the pages were the mainstream news, and many had missing letters from the haste of printing.

He heard a light pat from the bed and crawled in next to Sammy. He could have sworn that Ethel had pushed Sammy all the way to the edge of the bed, and he noted that he had regained a few inches, making it a very cramped ordeal.

“Not Sammy, Sam. And I’m sorry.” Joe just nodded. He laid there, evened his breathing, and tried to pretend to be asleep. He did not want to deal with an experience with someone judgmental at this hour, on this day. As he laid there, his face lit by a faint line of cool blue and yellow light, he realized that he was so very far from Prague.