chapter 9

Erik

I don’t understand the feeling that consumes me when I watched her get into that car. I needed to hit something. Repetitively. Preferably that John guy.

Boxing has always been my release. Training and sparring are okay, but I only feel sated after a real match. In Norway I usually fight once a month, now it feels like my ever-filling cup is spilling over with whatever this torrent of emotion is.

I’m sitting in what was Jack’s old room, now my room. It’s simple but stylish. The furniture is all mid-century modern with colorful prints on the wall. I spent most of my afternoon unpacking and organizing my clothes. I’m still not convinced living here is a great idea, but I have the freedom to leave whenever I want, and go back to my life in Oslo.

I sit on the bed and take out my phone. There must be a boxing gym somewhere in this city where someone can point me to a match. I find one nearby, Harry’s Gym. No website, just a number and address.