A Fence Between Hearts

         It felt like a typical Nogales, Arizona July, which made it a typical Nogales, Sonora July. The desert sand and hot wind were one-in-the-same. Short gusts stung his leather tanned face, orange-pink sand plinking against his aviator sunglasses. She was already on the other side of the fence when he arrived and pulled out the blanket, tucking it under the fence so they could share. They met there every week, next to the giant cactus resembling a stalk of broccoli. The gap under the fence only left enough room to tuck the blanket under; left barely enough room for them to touch fingers. They each brought their own food, and their own wine. They compared notes, like when they met in Chihuahua. A rusty, smoke-filled bar, their notes being sarcasm at play. A date ending in laughter. Now, they end with a faint touch and a few muddy tears.