It rained that night and I almost didn’t go through with it.
The deadly idea came to me when I listened in on Karl describing the plan to Regine. He loved her and I followed them everywhere. Sitting near them in the cafe, I smelled her cigarettes. Watched them make eyes at each other in the university library. A local boy, he had the upper hand. He could arrange it: an athlete, familiar with the dark streets, former military. Brought her wildflowers and made her smile.
I went behind them in the subway. Quick-stepped to keep up, closing in on them at the end. It was still barbed wire then and Karl approached when the guard walked away. He pulled out a wire cutter, reflecting the streetlight like a mirror. It would get us caught. If there even was a me in this.
But he managed and went over. Reached for her and she came too. I ran out of the shadows and across just as the guard twirled back around. Regine gasped and her eyes grew wide.
“Go,” Karl whispered. To all of us. Running hard, we were well into the West of Berlin before the shots rang out.
Patricia J. Hale has been published here in EDF and in Powder Burn Flash, Flashshot, Flash Pan Alley, MicroHorror, Fictional Musings and Apollo’s Lyre. She writes because she can’t stop herself. Her husband can’t stop her either. For her latest work see patriciahale.blogspot.com or reach her at patriciajhale@aol.com.
