Nine
The returning tide crashed over Max’s feet as he watched the twinkling body of water, his apartment building positioned behind him and across the street. He’d pulled himself out of the turbulent sea not fifteen minutes earlier, while thick gray clouds rolled in and the sun dipped lower in the sky. The wintery image wasn’t all that unusual for Melbourne, the city known for its “four seasons in one day”, including during the summer months.
With his hair plastered down from his swim, the occasional droplet slid over his temples and cold wind kissed his damp skin, that skin tightening and bumping in response. This day couldn’t end fast enough, though the discomforting elements offered him a sense of camaraderie.
“You going to get sick sitting there like that.” Miroslav, or Miro, as he
