Markus was living in a two room apartment in West Berlin. He wasn't wealthy by any means, but he did well for himself, and never was lacking in an area of importance. A perfect image of the hard-working middle class man. He was sitting on his plush chair, looking at the news on his small TV in the living room/kitchen, the only room apart from the bedroom. He was not watching it, only staring blandly at the screen, lost in his own head. He was thinking of a friend from years past. They had been extremely close in their teenage years, before the wall kept them apart indefinitely. The day that East Berlin was cordoned off from the rest of the world, the two friends were heart-broken. As time passed, Markus began to create his own life, but his friend never completely left his mind. It was during this moment of contemplation and reflection that a report on the news caught his attention. It declared that at midnight, East Berliners, "citizens of the GDR" they called them, would be free to cross the border. Markus was taken aback. For nearly 30 years, the East and West had been separated; the Soviets seemed determined to keep the people of East Berlin under lock and key and wall. They were giving up? Markus was dubious, but hopeful. Could he perhaps unite with his long separated friend? He began making plans for that night.
Near midnight, Markus joined the massive crowd of people flowing out into the streets, many of them with smiles on their faces, rejoicing the end of the internment of their fellow Germans. As he made his way toward the wall, which was not too far from his modest apartment, his feelings of doubt began to slip away, as the joyousness of the crowd became infectious. He gave in completely to hope, allowing himself to be optimistic about the future. He began running towards the wall shamelessly, releasing years of repressed emotion. When he got to the wall it was one minute past midnight. Thousands poured through the gates from the Eastern side, hugging friends, hugging strangers, all so glad to be freed from oppression. Markus was stricken with the starved quality of their bodies. He knew that things were worse on the eastern side, but not how much. He looked all night for his friend, well into the morning hours. At around 7:00 he gave up and went home for some rest, disappointed but not daunted. After a few hours rest, he went out again to look for his friend, going to several of the places they had frequented as young men. For days he searched, never finding him. He decided that the next day he would search the eastern side.
Tobias had lived in East Germany his whole life. He had never even been to the western side, even when the wall had not existed. He was a guard in the service of the party, and he never wavered in his loyalty. He had killed other guards, policemen, and friends in service to the party, and did not regret a moment of it. He even owned a car, being deemed worthy of the honor for his impeccable standing amongst the party and his perfect service record. He wept when they announced the opening of the borders. He remained in his tiny one room tenement even when they opened. He stayed there for days, stubbornly waiting. He watched as thousands of East Germans made their way to the other side, and even hurled stones at them. Word quickly spread to avoid the street on which Tobias resided.
About a week after the opening of the borders, and the subsequent destruction of the wall, Tobias heard a knock on the door. He opened the door, and there stood a man about his age, who seemed vaguely familiar...
A sudden spike of pain erupted in his head, and he cried out.
"Are you alright?" said Markus in concern, for it was Markus at the door.
"Go away!" shouted Tobias.
"What? Why? Don't you remember me?" asked Markus somewhat hurt by this unexpected outburst.
"I don't know you, get out of my house!" he said still clutching his head.
"Tobias... it's me." said Markus desperately. Tobias released his head, grabbed Markus by the collar and threw him forcefully out of the door.
After the door slammed in his face, Markus began to doubt himself. He was so sure this was Tobias, his friend from years past. Was he wrong? He must have been. Tobias couldn't completely forget him, could he?
Markus left the desolate complex of small tenements and made his way back to West Berlin. He decided to give up on the search. He was no detective, clearly. He would just have to hope Tobias was happy.
In a few weeks the news would report that a former guard on the Berlin Wall had shot several people making their way to West Berlin, before turning the gun on himself. The identity of the shooter was unknown.
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