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by Rhian Waller
Originally published by on 13/07/2018

Listlessly, she watched the sunrise.

Hot air singed her skin. Thirst clawed her throat.

There were stones scattered about, none big enough to cast shade.

She lifted one and placed it flat. Then a second and third. She chose big, square rocks, building a crescent foundation. Her hands bled. Dust entered the blisters. She heaved and ached.

Finally, she had a big enough dome.

She put the last, circular rock in place - a capstone - and crawled inside.

It was the closest thing to home since she'd been cast out.

She sat, skin cooling, and decided she would live.

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