At thirty-six, she’s been dating her boyfriend, an orthopedic surgeon, for six years. He was lean, with dark hair and squint lines at the corners of his eyes earned by a life spent in the sun at forty-two, he sometimes wondered whether he’d chosen to live in the bush or the bush had chosen him. It was part of the landscape of his birth-his ancestors had emigrated from England more than a century earlier-and he was no more startled than a fisherman spotting a shark as the daily catch was pulled in. Beyond a fence topped with electric wire, an elephant pulled branches from a tree that had toppled earlier that morning. Like his footwear, the truck was covered in dust, both inside and out. Dust clung to his boots as he made his way to the pickup he’d owned for more than twenty years. The earth was cracked beneath his feet and the air was dry it hadn’t rained in more than two months. On the morning of September 9,1990, Tru Walls stepped outside and surveyed a morning sky that was the color of fire near the horizon. Today I am linking up with Vicki I’d Rather Be At The Beach who hosts a meme every Tuesday to share the First Chapter/First Paragraph or two of the book you are currently reading.
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