Border

A warm mist and grey clouds gave way to solemnity as Lucia stood on the edge of the border. She held her bag tightly, protecting the only belongings she possessed. The long line and the heat, even with cloudy skies, burned the nape of her neck. She wiped the sweat with a cloth and thought about the family that should be with her. Tears rolled down her cheeks and the guilt consumed every moment of every day.

An explosion killed her husband and two sons while she had been at a friend’s house sipping tea and filling her mouth with sweets.

“Papers,” the man at the check point demanded.

Nearby gunshots were heard.