The cloud ruffled the top of Table Mountain, tendrils fraying down towards the city.
“They call that effect the tablecloth,” Thandie said.
Sitting under the shade umbrella, I sipped my mojito and gazed across the harbour. We were in her country, her city, but I felt a disconcerting familiarity. Africa should be more alien.
She seemed to read my mind. “You expected mud huts, didn’t you? Lions? Tribal dances?”
All I could do was laugh and reach across the café table to squeeze her hand. “You’re dark and exotic enough for me. And there’s still your father’s kraal to come.”
Fancy sharpening your skill with writing exercises? The Scrivener’s Forge offers a new exercise every month to hone one aspect of your craft. Take a look at this month’s exercise on character, desire, and suspense here