THE THIRTY-SECOND
‘Good evening,’ Martin greeted the empty space, and immediately switched on the television, so that he wouldn’t have to think. And yet he was thinking, scanning all four channels with the remote. A show at all costs. He settled on Eurosport. He never watched sport alone, really; never watched it at all unless he was with his boy — hockey, or ski-jumping. Today they were showing track and field. He let it run. The running track suddenly seemed more interesting than all the other programmes.
The hundred metres. That takes soul. To prove something over such a short distance. To prove everything over such a short distance. Five women in blue kits with the logo of the sponsor of the championships were milling around the starting blocks. Martin suddenly perceived their rather
