Broken Country

by Clare Leslie Hall

he’s just learned. It’s only a five-minute walk to the village, ten at Bobby’s pace, but I begin to worry we might have left it too late. And when we get there, I see a line of photographers outside the church, both sides of the road crowded with villagers waiting for a glimpse of the couple, jars of homemade confetti at the ready. “This is where we need to be proper spies so no one in the village sees us. Think you can do that?” Bobby