If she carried on like this, she would collapse. And over nothing worse than a shorn fringe and a measly picture on her phone. Was she really that feeble? Sure, someone had broken in to her flat and her phone. But the most likely scenario was, if she was being honest with herself, that that was the end of it. That it was over. That whoever it was had had their fun and was going to leave her alone from now on. And either way, the locks to her flat had been changed so they wouldn’t be able to get in if they wanted to.

So why couldn’t she just put it behind her and move on?

Like in boxercise class. Boxercise had actually worked significantly better than Bikram yoga, despite being insanely hard. She hadn’t thought of that damn picture once, for a whole hour. It was only in the shower afterwards that anxiety had come creeping back in, making her feel like someone was watching her. Her, the woman who always showered at the gym and had no problem being naked in front of others.

Apparently, that wasn’t possible any more, which is why she now pulled her coat on over her sweaty yoga clothes and hurried outside.

There were people everywhere. Just like every Friday afternoon, when people tried to sneak out of work early to get to the shops before the queues got too long. They were moving all over the place, cutting across the streets and bumping into one another. Everyone had longed for the weekend and now it was finally here. Now they were finally going to have those after-work drinks and throw those dinner parties. They were going to spend time together and solve the world’s problems over yet another bottle.

She had never liked weekends. They were a waste of time, just one long wait for Monday to roll around again. If she wanted to go out and have fun, she could do that any day of the week, and the last thing she wanted was to have to share her dance floor with wasted out-of-towners.

But on this particular Friday, she wished for nothing more than to be part of the crowd. Those normal things she’d always despised and done everything to get away from. Now she was standing here alone, not knowing how to get through the claustrophobic eternity stretching out ahead of her.

She’d left the car at home that morning because she preferred being with the commuting public on the Öresund train to being alone. But instead of disappearing into anonymity on her way to work, it had felt as though everyone was staring at her. As though any one of them could be the perpetrator. A brief smile or a fleeting look had been enough to make her break out in a cold sweat.