Julius Rosenthal will make candy no more and other short stories

flavors, but that seemed like an affront to the family name. So here Julius was grating the rind of an orange that was a day or two from being rotten. With the rind in a neat, orange-white pile Julius tapped the side of the grater, loosening the last few pieces.
He added the powder to the boiling water before measuring the sugar. He preferred to add the rind before the boil to allow the flavor time to disperse throughout, but he had let his mind slip this morning and was forced to add it later than he liked. Julius reminded himself that the rind would still flavor the candy well, and that he was just being a perfectionist.
As he was measuring the sugar he heard the tiny jingle of an old brass bell; it was a sound he had not heard in weeks. He set the measuring glass down and leaving the sugar container open, Julius stepped out into the stores front room. Examining an empty glass jar was a man dressed in a crisp black uniform. He was tall-easily over six feet, but other than the broad shoulders one would expect from a man of his height, he was thin, almost giving the impression of a pole wrapped in black wool.
The man turned toward Julius; his face was sunken and pale with a jagged scar crossing the left side of his face. Julius tried not to stare, to keep his eyes from locking with the man before him but he couldn’t. The scar ran from the base of his ear to the tip of the man’s lips, giving him the look of a sinister smile. Julius recognized the uniform and couldn’t bring himself even in his mind to say their name. Julius could see the man’s collar and the four silver squares turned slightly to the side. “Good morning, sir, is there anything I can help you with?”
Without saying a word, he moved toward the counter and looked into the empty glass case. He always kept his posture perfect, kept his shoulders back and his chin high. “You are Julius Rosenthal, are you not?”
“Yes sir, I am.” Julius knew what the man was here for and felt a spasm run down his spine. The town was small, and so far there had not been many people taken, but he had received letters from friends, and when these men show up people are never seen again.
The man raised his long, thin arm and with his boney finger pointed toward the door. “You will need to come with me.”
He stood perfectly still and waited for Julius to move. Julius looked over the store and the corners of his eyes began to itch. He tied his apron and laid it on the counter. Julius wanted to speak but found his throat sore and dry. He tried again but the same thing seemed to happen; by his third try he found his voice though it was frailer then it had seemed when he last spoke. “May I gather my things?”
The man’s cold face broke, and he seemed for just a moment to be human, but Julius knew better. He could see the man’s back stiffen before he spoke. “Yes, but hurry; I am expected at Headquarters soon.”
Julius nodded and stepped to the register, reaching under the table for his recipe book. He looked to the register and placed a finger on the “no sale” button. He knew how much money was in the till- three Riechmarks - but wasn’t sure if he should take it. Most likely the man before him would take the money either way, so Julius didn’t really see the point. He left the money but tucked the book under his arm. He walked around the counter and started for the door.
Stepping out Julius was surprised to see the late hour. Having not carried a watch in years, Julius tended to lose track of time. He arrived at work just before dawn and left as the sun was setting, time beyond that seemed irrelevant. Now the sun was high in the eastern sky, and Julius let it flood his vision, blocking all that was around him. The SS officer pushed Julius, knocking him off balance and bringing him back to the street. He turned to see the man again and saw the baker exiting the front of his store. “What is going on here?”
His voice was cold and firm, and in a strange way, reminded Julius of his father. The officer turned and the moment the baker could see the man before him completely his demeanor changed. The strength from the moment before was gone now replaced by fear of those who backed the dark bully before them “I have orders directly from the Führer. To bring all Jews together for deportation, are you attempting to stop me, Baker?”
“No, it’s about time we get these Jews out of here.” A searing pain rushed through Julius’ chest as the man before him, a man whom Julius had played with as a child denounced him. Their gazes met and humiliation filled the baker’s eyes as he turned and reentered his shop. Julius turned and straightened his back as he walked to the black sedan.
The officer whose name Julius still did not know turned and motioned for two men to come forward. The two men, neither in uniform but each wielding clubs, entered Julius’ shop. The muffled sound of shattering glass floated behind Julius as he walked to the car.
The drive across town was swift and unpleasant. Julius had not liked automobiles before Juliette’s accident, and now found them almost unbearable. The sedan pulled up to an abandoned train station; the government had built a newer station ten years ago, and since then this one had fallen into disrepair. Julius