They said the house we moved into was nearly 100 years old and I believed it.

A pretty structure on the far outskirts of Berlin.

Our new house stood two stories tall encased in a criss-cross pattern of dark wooden framework.

Outside the windows were balconies full of flowers and the entire left side was overgrown

with ivy. Inside the place was dark and

wooden but intricately elegant. On the left the entry hall continued back to the

kitchen and dining rooms. On the right, a staircase climbed its way to the second floor landing.

I stood at the fork, a suitcase in each hand, gawking at the onateness of it all. My sister,

Lena, pushed past me, stomping up the staircase in a needless hurry.

When I realized what she was doing, I chased after her.

The suitcases did nothing to aid my speed.

Lena reached the second floor and burst into the first bedroom on the right, spinning

to take in the view.

It was deliciously spacious, complete with an adjacent bathroom, two windows, and a walking

closet.

Then a toss the luggage onto the bed and turn to face me.

Fine, keep us, Axel. I got it first, and I'd like some privacy if you don't mind.

Then her, please, I said, still panting from the journey up.

Mama said I could have the upstairs.

You can, there are two.

Yours is across the hall.

She smiled at me and nodded out the doorway.

...