Peter From Anne Frank Novels & Stories

Maybe we could get lucky. - You think so? Ok, let us see what we can do. - Thank you very much Miss Sarah for your hospitality. I will not forget that. - Any time Mr. Hauser We took the elevator just to make sure I would not see Peter’s meaningful face on me for long. He was well-intended but nosey. - You can stop looking at me like that anytime now, Pete. - How? How am I looking at you Miron?

“Your father… Peter… he grew up in a children's home. He was smart, too smart for his environment, more like a genius. He read everything he could find. One day, Jacob came across him through a scholarship program and picked interest in him.” Tim turned to face her properly now. Something in the way she said “Jacob” made him sit straighter. “Peter was twenty-three when I met him. I was twenty. I was working in a small restaurant. He was the kind of man who carried light into any room. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, you listened.” “He was one hell of a handsome man just like you, his eyes could charm the hardened heart, and the way he smiled at me that first day I set my eyes on him.”

Director William looked at the man sitting with his feet on the table, not noticing that this was William's private office: "It is rare to see you so focused on the workplace. Brian told me, whether it's a collaboration or an important award ceremony, you hide and don't want to come." Peter laughed and laughed: “You're exaggerating, I came here because I wanted to meet my beautiful Mia Joan. Otherwise, I would never have come here.” Director William glared at him, unexpectedly Peter frankly admitted: "I see this is the first time you notice a girl like that. You like her already, right?" Peter was like a teenager, shyly nodding his head: “Yes. It's the first time I feel like someone like tha

I smiled nervously. “Looking forward to work with you, Ana,” Peter answered with a deep and pleasant voice. “Peter is one our best editors, I can't wait to see the outcome of your cooperation,” Ellen grinned, agitated. I had to say, Peter looked very professional… and handsome. He was wearing a neat suit, he took notes from the information about my book that Ellen told him. He also already had some ideas for minor changes. All his ideas were on point, I was truly excited to work with him.

There we found Peter, our personal chef and my closest friend amongst the help. Peter was a tall and slender man. He always had a smile on his face and was completely obsessed with white. Today he was dressed in a white dress shirt, white jeans and white canvas. Like how does he manage? He was super friendly but when it came to his kitchen he became a beast. A huge contrast to he's normal self. If there was one thing I am positive about Peter is that he is passionate about cooking. You can tell by the way he handles the cooking ware and food stuffs. His execution and taste are always exquisite. In all the seven years Peter worked here he never seemed to disappoint Paps and I not once, which

“Mum. Do you remember Peter.” Eleanor frowned slowly. Then her face changed. “Peter,” she repeated. “Little Peter. From the house on Camden Row.” “He’s not little anymore,” Sandra said. “He’s sixty-one. He was twelve when you got married. He lived two doors down from where I was sent to live with Auntie Joan.” Sandra’s voice was careful, like she was handling something fragile. “He used to sit with me on the step some evenings. He was the only person who ever asked me how I was doing and actually waited for the answer.”

"Ah, Peter," Mr. Sharma said warmly. "Do come in. And who is your friend?" "Oh, hi, Mr. Sharma," Peter replied. "Hi, Claire," he added warmly. "This is Gregory." Claire grunted a response but did her best to ignore them. "Good to meet you, young man. Come to look at the books?" Mr. Sharma asked. "Er, no, we've come to look for clothes actually," Peter answered. "Clothes? Here?" Mr. Sharma looked at the racks of cast-off elderly ladies' apparel and back at the boys in surprise.

He didn’t understand what Trenton was talking about. “I don’t think I need to introduce my family. You appear to know about us quite well.” Peter speaks with confidence while Trenton agreeably nods his head, confirming Peter’s assumption. “What do you mean, thanks to me?” Peter looked at the relatively young guy sitting in front of him. He stared at that face for quite a while now, trying to remember when and where he had seen that face before. No recollection of that face came to his mind.

"Oh, no, don't be sorry. It was stupid of me to hope you'd remember me. We met once, very briefly. My name is Peter." Peter. "When did we meet exactly?" I asked. "When you were—uh..." I saw a flash of uncertainty in his eyes before he continued. "When you were kidnapped by Danzel Parker. You were very unwell at the time." My heart violently skipped a beat at the mere mention of his name.

I’m too busy cursing myself for not running the second I woke up. “I’m Peter.” At my continued silence, he raises his head from the fire. Even though I’m not looking into his eyes, I feel the intensity of his stare. “Name,” he barks. My gaze jumps to his hard gray eyes before quickly away again. “Jenna.” “Now, Jenna. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Peter croons as if I’m a child. His youthful appearance suggests he can’t be any older than his mid-twenties, or maybe even younger. So, about the same age as me then. I’m guessing that if the wolf at my feet, Ant, is his brother, then he can’t be much older or younger.