We drove behind Lake Somerset and spent the night digging, deep holes inside the forest. Afterwards we shared a cigarette. I leant on my shovel like the councilmen do and watched Laura comb the night from her hair. Caked in blood and soil, she looked at the trees as though they were her peers. ‘He wanted to break up,’ she told them. ‘For no reason at all.’ There was nothing in the nature around us, silence. ‘Like being alone is better than being with me.’ Sunlight clawed through the canopy, striking her face. It was then she finally cried.