A/N: This is kind of just a filler..but I liked writing a typical Himmel Street scene.

The sun set behind Molching, as Liesel Meminger's eyes followed it, sketching in every detail for her little black book. Its pages were full of the ink of her intricate fantasies and real thoughts, but the ones she considered the best were the events she mapped down. Memories were important to Liesel.

Later, in the book, she would write that the sunset was "just like a child's painting, with carefree blobs of color staining the page, yet managing to cage a flitting, fanciful thought like a butterfly fluttering into a cupped palm."

For a moment, she thought she would tell Max, and then she remembered and it was like a slap in the face to stun her from her dream. She blinked, and then got up from Frau Holtzapfel's doorstep, busying herself with thoughts of Mama's admonishments for being late.

She walked back down Himmel Street, calling to Rudy as he scored a goal and looked around for applause. She climbed up the wilting steps of the house, and went into the hallway. At the kitchen door, she paused. She listened with tears in her eyes and a smile on her lips as the notes of Papa's accordion sounded through the house. Liesel had once thought–without allowing herself to, but thought nonetheless–that she would never hear that wonderful, imperfect sound again.

Rosa Hubermann was quiet, and when Liesel dared to look through the crack, she found her with her head on her husband's shoulder, eyes half closed. Their hands were lying loosely entwined, wholly contented for the moment on the accordion as its melody drifted into Liesel's ears.

She closed the door quietly and debated whether to go to her room or the basement. Finally, she decided on the former. She would be able to write better where she could look down through the window to the football game she would later join, where she could see Rudy and the remnants of her sunset, where she could still hear the accordion's tune.