She shuffles forward, her upper body leaning over the edge. My head feels constrained, as if I’m observing the world through some kind of filter. I hear my doctor over and over again, snatches of our conversation, enjoying the summer? I’m sorry. The waves are more powerful than they were yesterday, I stare down at the water as I guide the boat over the swells, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of the catastrophe films I’ve seen, a huge wave rolling in our direction and flipping the boat over. We don’t need to be out here fishing for long, I think to myself, inwardly I hope we don’t actually catch anything, I don’t know if I’ve got it in me to kill something while Olea watches. Marthe’s probably never taken Olea out in the boat alone, she’s only just learnt to take it out herself. I wonder where she’s gone, if she’s sitting crying somewhere, I feel vaguely sick at the thought. It was easy to say all that I did about Kristoffer, it shouldn’t have been that easy.