conuly

We were at the library. The nieces were listening to stories, and I was picking out books. I passed by a table where the kid - eightish? - was clearly picking out a book report book. He'd chosen Number the Stars, and his mother was talking to him about it, so I piped up that, as Holocaust fiction for kids goes, that one's not too bad. It's not overly scary and depressing, but neither does it excessively play down the Holocaust. (I read a surprising amount of Holocaust-fiction-for-kids in my childhood. After a while, they start to blur together, though. I mean, it's the Holocaust. It sucked, and people died, and after you've stated that there's not much left to say, especially if you want to keep it child appropriate.)

At any rate, this little conversation isn't what was interesting (see my above comment on how similar Holocaust-fiction-for-kids all tends to be. Restrictions of the genre, can't get around 'em). No, no. What was interesting is that this woman looked just like Gwen from Torchwood. Except no accent, and slightly older. And, uh, with a kid.

It was creepy. I felt like asking her, but I doubted she'd know what I was talking about, so... yeah.

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