LAINEY HUGHES' voice rang off the pale green concrete walls. Internally wincing at the abrupt silence in the room, she peered over her shoulder at her fellow travelers awaiting the next bus out of the small African village. She gave the neatly uniformed customs agent and his well-armed guards an apologetic wave, not caring for their sour attention, and turned back to the cracked plastic pay phone."It's March, Ben. Do you know what that means?” She swiped at a trickle of sweat running along her temple. Even with a rudimentary fan, the tiny building could not battle the heat here along the equator. Truth be told, she would not have it any other way.Benjamin Strauss, editor of the acclaimed cultural magazine, Cognizance, said, "It means that the Iditarod is in full swing, and the second best photo journalist in the world is in the Providence Medical Center with a compound fracture.”"No,” Lainey said, closing hazel eyes. She took on a lecturing tone. "It means that it's fucking cold, with huge snow drifts, frozen lakes, and hibernating bears.
