Questions for the Other Side

What was I going to say? 

That’s always the hardest part about talking to the kids on the other side of the wall. We speak the same language, but I always find it difficult to start conversations. The safest option is to ask about their favorite school subject, but then again, not all of them attend school. And if they do, the chances of us taking the same subjects are almost none. 

Sometimes I bring up the weather. “How’s it over there?” They usually reply, “snowy, like on your side of the wall.” Sometimes I forget that it’s only a wall dividing us and that of course the weather is the same on either side. 

Snow. It’s always just snowy. But maybe they have more snow than us? I mean, we do get the early morning sun that melts it quickly. I wonder if the sun reaches their side. I can always ask if they made a snowman or created an igloo. Are they even allowed to do that on their side of the wall? We are, but I have been told that the people on that side are much meaner. Mean enough to not allow the children to play in the snow? Possibly! What do I know about them anyways?

I don’t understand why our adults say that the people on the other side are mean. The children on the other side are nice. We always have good conversations, once we find topics to talk about. 

One time, a girl on the other side had on the same coat as me. That had never happened before. 

That’s one thing that they use to distinguish what side of the wall we belong on. Our clothes. My side of the wall only sells cool colored clothes. Blues, greens, purples. Their side only has warm colors. Reds, oranges, yellows. How in the world did she get our color? 

If I ever get a hold of clothes from the other side, I will never wear them. No way! I once saw what happens to those who do. The sounds still ring through my mind. 

“You’ll be dead on seven!” 

Then they count: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven!

And she is gone, evaporated under the sound of gun fire, somehow. To where? It’s hard to tell – because no one really seems to know where anyone goes on the other side. 

Their catch phrase for when someone ends up on the “wrong side” is enough to scare anyone into submission. We know the consequences, so we don’t break the rules. 

I guess the other side is kind of mean for that. But we do it too, when they come over here. 

It’s a question I always want to ask a kid on the other side, but I can never bring myself to do it. 

“What does the inside of your clothing stores look like? Are there any cooler colors at all?”