We’re Being Invaded

‘Look, there’s another one. That’s number five … or is it six? There must’ve been four in that first convoy.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Karen asked him. The wind was blowing hair into her eyes and it felt like it was about to start raining again.

‘See?’ Michael pointed to where traffic streamed across the bridge. ‘Another one. Seven now.’ The shiny Amazon trucks stood out in their sleek livery, tucked between the cars and vans and buses crossing the bridge from Devon into Cornwall. ‘We’re being invaded … by capitalism.’

The next day when they crossed the bridge, the number of trucks had multiplied.

 


 

 

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