DAY 11. AT SEA. AFTERNOON.
Martin stopped running and pressed the red switch. The treadmill slowed then stopped. He felt the pleasant twinge in his muscles from the weights he’d worked with earlier. His whole body dripped with sweat. The rush of endorphins lasted right through his shower and sauna. God that was good, he thought as he towelled off and dressed.
Still in the changing room, he scrolled through the photos on his phone, and found one of a woman in her late thirties. She was laughing into the camera. Her springy hair was henna-dyed, and it stood out from her head in frizzy curls. The roots were black. Around her neck and across her collarbone was a colourful tattoo necklace. There was a small blue wren, a tiny finch with a yellow underbelly, and a chain of delicate pink flowers
