This post submitted to Friday Fictioneers.
“The illegals live there, officer.” The homeless man motioned ahead.
Here on the southwest edge of the city it was quite dirty and the area under the bridge oozed with feces and muddy water mixed with trash. The people were huddled together in a sprawling mass that covered the entire area shaded by the overhead bridge.
“Stinks like hell,” the border agent said.
“Just the beginning from what I hear. They say many more of their kind are on there way. Fleeing from gang violence and poverty. Can’t say that I blame them. Welcome to my world Amigos.”