“I always got to this sign in my dream, that pointed to ‘Job’ one way and ‘Cliff’ to the other.”
The clear water of the Swat River gurgled happily around the wide flat rock they sat on. Paola looked at Dan with a steady, slightly fixed and icy gaze. She was the most beautiful scarecrow he’d ever come across. Her smile was open and seductive, yet set in chrome. Hard.
They’d been watching a mule train slowly snake its way downriver, past them, heavily laden with firewood, a couple of young boys with sticks driving on the despondent animals.
Her nostrils were flaring. Her large brown eyes drew him in, out of Asia, into another world.
“So how is it, this Mondo Paola?” he grinned.
Her expression remained serious.
“Pretty good, I think. I have been travelling since I was eighteen. I lived
