A short nod, a thoughtful hmm. ‘Okay. Good idea.’

I tip the last of my tea back and set my cup down on the porch. ‘What can I help with?’

He turns his head up to me, a crooked smile among his stubble. ‘You relax, I can do it all. That’s a condition of us renting it out. Go find a sunny spot to read your book.’

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I might head for a run instead.’

He rubs his thumb along the top edge of the lock, blows away the dust. ‘Good idea.’

I grab my running shoes, start my audiobook on my phone and open my running app, MyTrack. I check out the recent activities, the runs and bike rides of the people I follow. I give an old school friend’s half-marathon effort kudos. They’ve managed to gamify exercise; another app to get addicted to. The map loads; there’s a blue dot isolated in the square house by the lake. It moves when I move.

‘Alright,’ I say, back out on the deck now. ‘I’m off.’

Right then, a message comes through from a random number. It’s simply an emoji of a pair of lips.

I stop abruptly, staring down at the phone. Could it be Daniel? No, impossible. Then who?

‘What is it?’ Cain says.

I clear my throat. ‘Nothing. Just a… meme on Facebook. A dog up for adoption.’

‘Right,’ he says. ‘You don’t mind if I sand back and paint the door frames, trimming and that sort of thing. Those old marks by the kitchen.’

‘Sure,’ I say, barely registering his words.

I send a message back.

Who is this?

•

I steady my breath before starting out on my run. My running shoes strike the gravel as I begin on a familiar trail through the bush to the lake’s edge. I try to block out the message. Daniel couldn’t have my number, but what if he does?

Long before I get home, I can hear the shriek of the power sander. By the time I get to the base of the steps, my dusty calves are aching and my chest burns. Cain is sanding with the doors and windows ajar, that’s why it’s so loud. I get halfway up the steps to the door when I see him through the glass panels. I see what he is sanding, and a new energy fills my tired limbs. I burst through the door but it’s done, he’s finished, the wall between the kitchen and the lounge is bare wood now. He’s sanded it right back, erased those colourful marks.

He’s moved on, pressing the sander to the door frame at the entrance of the hallway.

‘Cain,’ I yell over the racket. ‘Cain!’