Glienicke Bridge

She came with thousands from the East and he met her halfway.

“You still have that mole,” she mocked him, flicking a grey curl out of her face.

“The only thing you remember?” he asked.

They crossed the bridge together, first with hands apart. Then his fingertips touched her clutched gloved hand before they reached the West.

Her hand opened, and he grasped it the way he used to. Before they had been torn apart when they were young. A generation ago.

Today the world shook and buried that eternity among the rubble of crumbling walls.

“I remember everything.”

Jürgen Stahl is German-Australian and has been living in Adelaide, South Australia for thirty years. He is a medical specialist in anatomical pathology and writes about the people who spend their lifetimes in the medical world. History, ancient and recent, fascinates him too. What happened in his native Germany between 1933 and 1945 is something he is still trying to comprehend, and some of his flash fiction stories reflect that. He currently works on a novel that tells a story in the world of mortuaries, drug trials, and human failure in modern medicine. Twitter: @JurgenStahl1. Facebook.