The Gift by Catherine Garden

Pascoe Lane sipped a coke as she sat under the spreading branches of an acacia tree.  A rock served as a seat and she wiggled a little to get comfortable. Just a little way out from the village she could hear the slow buzz of the market from this spot, broken with the occasional shout or surge of music.  Gazing out she saw expansive plains with undulating hills in the distance. The occasional copse of trees and shrubs interrupting the uninhabited land with the biggest sky overhead, and her heart filled. This quintessential East African scene was her reality. She stretched her legs in front of her just keeping balance on the rock, taking a moment to appreciate the transformation of her world compared to three years ago.

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