Friday Fictioneers – defect.

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

I held the coffee cup in my hands and looked out of the window, beyond the police officer who had asked my name.

The American flag danced in the breeze and I compared its design to the one I had grown up with. All those lines and little stars.

It had been three years since my defection, which was much simpler than I’d expected. But I still felt nervous when I thought people were sent to recover me.

“Starzanlines,” I answered. “Combo Starzanlines.”

She tapped her notepad.

“Is that German?”

“Polish!”  I smiled encouraging at her and she left.

For more stories from this prompt in Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, try here.


    1. Thank you, Dale. Yes, It probably depends on the individual. My dad was a migrant who snuck out of his country after WWII and was frightened to go back for 50 years!

      Liked by 1 person

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