Berlin

When we were children, people disappeared every day.

“They just vanished,” Hannah would say, like it was nothing out of the ordinary. She said it when the neighbors went and when Mrs. Goldberg stopped coming to school. She said it so many times I lost count.

Then, Hannah fell silent.

“She just vanished,” I said.

Later, a magician visited town. He could make the disappeared return, but when I asked if he could bring back those who had left so long ago, he shook his head and gave a sad, knowing look.

That was when I realized: Hannah was gone.

 

 

 

Anna Sanderson is a writer and performer from Nottingham, England. She writes about the world as she sees it, hoping to make a small, positive change, one word at a time. She has been published online and in numerous zines and anthologies, and is currently working on her first novel.