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Her body lies broken on the mountainside.
The mountains give away none of their secrets. Yet out there, hidden within their granite folds, someone knows exactly how this woman died.
‘Not today, because ponies can’t pass through airport security.
‘She was married to you for two years, so scaling a mountain should feel like a walk in the park.’
You couldn’t be a GP and smoke. It was like being a vegetarian butcher.
Homo sapiens had always walked – even before there was language, they’d walked.
That’s what life gets reduced to in those final moments – the person you choose to hold hands with.
It was like going to bed in a crisp packet.
Joy was the reward that followed a struggle.
It is why people lose themselves out here. There’s no judgement. You can be anyone in the wilderness.
There was no one to stop her except herself.
Loneliness wasn’t the absence of people, she realised. It was the absence of people who understood you.
Three where there should be four.
