as if he would be more at home on the Riviera wearing designer shorts and a pink polo shirt.
He smiled at Nora. She tried to translate the smile, to understand the kind of relationship they had.
He watched her for a little while, then shuffled his chair along to sit opposite her.
She looked for a lanyard, but he wasn’t wearing one. She wondered if she should know his name.
“I’m Hugo,” he said, to her relief. “Hugo Lefèvre. You are Nora, yes?” “Yes.”
“I saw you around, in Svalbard, at the research centre, but we never said hello.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to say I read your paper on pulsating glaciers and it blew my mind.” “Really?”
“Yes. I mean, it’s always fascinated me, why they do that here and nowhere else. It’s such a strange phenomenon.”
“Life is full of strange phenomena.” Conversation was tempting, but dangerous.
Nora smiled a small, polite smile and then looked out of the window. The islands of ice turned into actual islands.
Little snow-streaked pointed hills, like the tips of mountains, or flatter, craggy plates of land.
And beyond them, the glacier Nora had seen from the cabin porthole.
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