Passport checks took too long. Their questions were difficult to hear. Somewhere a dog barked. But they are moving again. Tyres rumble beneath as rain echoes in the boot’s darkness above.
What happened to Great Britain? his daughter had asked. What could he say? How could he explain something millions couldn’t understand? ‘It wasn’t meant to be like this,’ he said. It never is.
He pulls Carly closer as the car boards the ferry. Everything will be alright when we get to Europe, he silently promises her. But he knows it’s a lie. They have names for people like them.
© 2017 The Wasted Love Song
In response to: Friday Fictioneers, 23 June 2017
Image credit: Ted Strutz
Many thanks to Rochelle for organising Friday Fictioneers.