High above the city, glittering, clean.

A fresh, cool breeze tickles across their skin.

Goosebumps from the quickening wind.

The first raindrops fall on their face.

Down below the ground, muddy, caked faces.

Constant labor and the metal clang of machinery.

Pumping the breeze up into the city.

The rain floods the floor as it drains, covering their feet.

The city is a wonderful, peaceful place.

No conflict, no fighting, no struggle.

No bloodied calluses on overworked hands.

The rain ends as quickly as it began.

Quiet once again.

Constant noise under the surface.

Little sleep, little food, water only provided

From the surface when it rains.

Little wonder that there are so many bodies.

A nightmare with no escape.

They meet in the middle sometimes.

People crossing that should never cross.

Hiding from High Above, always watching.

Always listening.

Still, they take the chance.

Meet in the middle.

Exchange ideas and connections.

Hoping for a better future.

Fighting for a better home.