Tuesday, five days after the murder, and I awoke on daybreak and threw open the curtains with unexpected positivity. The sky looked clear. I wasted no time downing a protein shake, donning my running gear, and heading out the door. The night had been cool and as the sun gained a little height, the wind picked up from the north. As I cornered Boronia Street, I saw a bank of low cloud hanging over the ocean that looked set to roll in.
It was a typical mid-spring day in this corner of the world. A corner that faced the tempestuous Atlantic Ocean with no land mass to slow the currents that spun around the globe all the way up to the Arctic. I felt cold just thinking about that. Thankfully, the trail was sheltered from the northerlies by a ribbon of low hills.
As I jogged down past the garden
