‘At the bottom I found a thick sheaf of papers frozen together, the ice crackling and sliding off, the blue ink running melt-water into tiny blue stars.’

‘The body dropped like dirty clothes, brown hair knotted in a bun with an old tartan scrunchie. It’s a trip, seeing yourself from the other side.’

‘Out on the pier you look down at reflections of neon lights cracking and bouncing on the ocean’s black surface and wonder what it would be like to fall in.’