crossing

A line was drawn. The reasons for the line’s existence were unclear. All who lived at the time of the line’s drawing were gone, the reasons dying with them, yet the line–it remained. There were records, but no one could prove that they were any more than speculation.

Such was life. People lived with the line, learned to navigate the twists and turns of it, became accustomed to its existence, until awareness of the line faded altogether. Generations began to live within its bounds instinctively. It went on and on this way.

Then, there was a child who couldn’t feel the line. The child wandered through the line. Others began to follow, others went to go see where he had come from. And the forgotten line was forgotten.

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