Brick by Brick, Stone by Stone

Traffic was backing up. The rows of headlights already disappeared beyond the horizon. The workers themselves were barely visible, outlines in reflective tape.

Erich leaned out the window. "How long is this going to take, anyway?" he called out. "You've got both lanes closed off."

"Look," said the nearest worker. "We feel for you, we really do. You almost made it in. But the wall's going up; that's all there is to it."

He shook his head and returned to work, placing the heavy cinder-blocks in a neat row across the highway. Others came behind him, and the wall grew.

Prompt: Fall of the Berlin Wall

Inspired by a prompt from Jim Murdoch

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It begins and ends with roots. Rooted in history. Rooted in blood. Rooted in dirt.

The dirt is fundamental. Things rise up out of dirt, out of rocks. Everything comes back to dirt.

The roots wend their way down. They crumble cities and split mountains, but without drama. Drama is artificial. Roots are natural, and very businesslike. A little at a time, they pry stones apart, gnaw mortar, spread and spread and while they break it up, they hold it together, and you’d never know it to look at it but it’s already falling apart.

Then one day someone… pushes.