The great wall tipped in razor wire, the turrets filled with trigger happy soldiers – all gone. Today, all that divides us is this simple wooden fence, you on one side, me on the other. I can’t see you but I know you’re there. I can almost feel you willing me to climb over and join you. I won’t of course, I haven’t the courage. Horror stories about what you do over there are stuck in my head, I can’t dislodge them. I know deep down they can’t be true but just suppose, for a minute, that they were.
My contribution to this week’s prompt from Friday Fictioneers.