Nice/bad

Basil entered the elevator deep in thought. "Nice guy," he exhaled, lowering his head. Starting to chuckle, he repeated the words, breaking into a crazy laugh as the elevator went down.

He remembered a row of women and children coward as they were ushered by soldiers to a train. Thick snow covered the field, as their weak bodies shook under an insufficient amount of clothing. Alive and in his 30s, he counted bags placed on a folding table, neatly writing down all the valuable items in them.

"Alright, if that is all, I will be on my way," he told the guards who escorted him to the gate. Once outside, he took a deep breath and looked at the gray sky. A small hand emerged from the snow, grabbing his hand. Startled, he looked down only to see a small boy in tatters. He was around ten, with large brown eyes, and small frozen fingers that protruded from his ripped gloves.

"Please, Sir. Take me with you," he begged, with his teeth chattering from the frost.

The man tried to push the boy awa