The universe tended towards chaos and entropy. That was basic thermodynamics. Maybe it was basic existence too.
You lose your job, then more shit happens. The wind whispered through the trees. It began to rain.
She headed towards the shelter of a newsagent’s, with the deep – and, as it happened, correct – sense that things were about to get worse.
Doors
Eight hours before she decided to die, Nora entered the newsagent’s.
“Sheltering from the rain?” the woman behind the counter asked.
“Yes.” Nora kept her head down. Her despair growing like a weight she couldn’t carry.
A National Geographic was on display. As she stared now at the magazine cover – an image of a black hole – she realised that’s what she was.
A black hole. A dying star, collapsing in on itself.
Her dad used to subscribe. She remembered being enthralled by an article about Svalbard, the Norwegian archipelago in the Arctic Ocean.
She’d never seen a place that looked so far away. She’d read about scientists doing research among glaciers and frozen fjords and puffins.
Then, prompted by Mrs Elm, she’d decided she wanted to be a glaciologist.
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