Without Borders Seguir historia

The sky was a bruised, leaden color, the clouds heavy with the threat of rain as I stood before the towering, barbed-wire topped fence that now divided my once-familiar town. It seemed like only yesterday that the world had been a different place, untouched by the border crises that had gripped the country like a fever. Now, every FEMA region had fenced itself off, turning the United States into a patchwork of isolated territories. To enter a region, one had to have proper papers and go through an entry point, a process that had become as arduous as trying to cross an international border.

I glanced over my shoulder, taking in the familiar streets that now ended abruptly at the imposing fence. The shopkeepers had boarded up their stores, their once-vibrant awnings now gray and faded from neglect. The neighbors who used to wave hello as they passed now hurried past one another with their heads down, intent on reaching their homes before the checkpoint closed for the night.

I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders as I approached the guard post. A young soldier in battle-dress uniform stood at attention, his expression impassive as he studied my papers. I handed them over, feeling a pang of nostalgia for the days when I could have walked across town without fear of being stopped and questioned.

The soldier inspected my documents with meticulous care, his fingers lingering on the creases of the paper as if they might reveal some hidden truth. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally looked up at me and nodded. "You may pass, ma'am." His voice was soft, almost apologetic.