/ The authors / Alex Zorro
Megan Markle was sitting on the steps of the porch overlooking the back yard of her big wooden house. The pensive look of a woman was directed into the distance, where, like a mirage, barely visible in a hazy mist, the snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains rose. High in the blue sky, the eagle hovered, catching ascending streams of air with wide wings and tracking its prey not on the ground with keen eyes. In the midst of the foliage of fruit trees, songbirds hid, announcing the neighborhood, ringing trills. The world around, rejoiced clear summer ...
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