They stood in a tailor's shop anywhere in Molching, Germany.
They had excactly five meters between them.
They hadn't seen each other for 26 months.
The Book Thief and the man with feather hair spent one second looking at each other. She had changed, but he recognized her. She became bigger, taller. Her face was still the same, but it was sadder and more serious then he thought. What had this girl gone through in the last 26 months?
Was that really Liesel Meminger?
Was that really the girl, who brought him so many newspapers and weather reports?
Was that really the Word Shaker?
Was that really the Book Thief?
Yes, she was.
But she was grown-up.
So different and still the same.
He recognized her. She recognized him. And they both knew how much they missed each other.
The second was over and the Book Thief started to move. She was killing the five meters with her running feet. He made two steps in her direction and caught her up.
Together they felt on the floor. Together.
She cried into his jacket, her head burried at his chest, her arms around his neck. His were holding her, thightly.
She could just say one word and she said it many times.
"Max"
And he answered her every single time.
"Liesel"
Anywhere in Germany, a Jew and a German were holding each other on the floor and cried together.
No, they weren't Jew and German anylonger. They were Max and Liesel.
When they had calmed down, Liesel rose her head and her hand and her heart.
With her hand, she stroked his cheek. And spoke:
"Is it really you?"
The unspoken words behind:
Was it your cheek from which I took the seed? I missed you so much, Max. Did you miss me?
Your hair is still like feathers, Max. I missed you so much.
We are still friends, aren't we, Max?
Max.
I missed you, Max.
Will you stay with me, Max?
I don't want to be alone anylonger.
I've lost so much.
Please, Max. Please.
The words flowed out of her heart and he watched them for a while.
Max smiled, some tears and Liesel's hand still on his face, and looked into her eyes.
His answer was simple.
"Yes"