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attraction and she had managed to coax him out of his shell – a damaged young man who had lost both parents at a young age and been raised by his grandmother in a way that had made him self-reliant, even as a youngster, capable of fending for himself and reluctant to let anyone come too close.
    Kristín had brought him a longed-for warmth and security, but things had started to come apart as soon as the new job had taken him to Siglufjörður. Kristín had been deeply upset by his decision and remained in Reykjavík, not even taking the time to come and stay with him over Christmas. He had been just as hurt by her reaction, and their relationship became increasingly distant, frosty. And then he took a wrong turn. The piano teacher in Siglufjörður, a young woman from the Westfjords, Ugla, had captivated him in much the same way that Kristín once had, providing him with a cosy escape from the chilly isolation of Siglufjörður. What began with a kiss had ended in her bedroom, and there was no way that he would ever be able to convince Kristín that he hadn’t been unfaithful to her. The snow and the winter darkness had created a mirage; the isolation crushing his conscience and convincing him that he was in love. However, as spring dawned over the Siglufjörður mountains, he knew with unswerving certainty that Kristín was the only one for him.
    But it was far too late. Rashly, he had called Kristín to let her know that he had begun seeing someone in Siglufjörður and to end their relationship, and there hadn’t been much more to their conversation than that. He had heard a crash, and assumed that she had hurled her phone against the nearest wall. It wasn’t until later that he found out she had given up a temporary appointment for the summer and anopportunity to finish her medical studies at a hospital in Reykjavík so that she could move north to Akureyri to be close to him.
    How could he have been so stupid?
    Of course, once he finally admitted that he’d had a girlfriend in Reykjavík all along, the relationship with Ugla didn’t go any further either. If she had been holding a phone, it would have gone the same way as Kristín’s, but hurled at him instead. The piano lessons stopped there and then.
    He missed Kristín. After they had parted he had tried to call her several times, but without success, and there were no replies to his emails. Some months had now passed since his last attempt to contact her. He knew she had moved to Akureyri to finish the final year of her medical studies, and had heard from mutual friends that she had taken a job at the hospital there. It was painful to know she was so close, when another kind of distance yawned between them. He had immersed himself in work after that, pushing himself harder than he had ever done before. There was little else for him to do.
    Ari Thór intended to buy himself something healthy for breakfast on his way to the station. A small cruise liner had docked that morning and the town hummed with activity, tourists snapping photos among the groups of local youngsters who were busy with rakes and other tools, doing summer work for the town council. The aroma of cinnamon and chocolate from the bakery was a temptation, but that hardly constituted a healthy breakfast. He paused for a moment as the scent washed over him. The quality of Siglufjörður’s cinnamon buns, known as hnútar , left the Reykjavík version he was used to in the shade. A peek through the window, though, showed that a crowd of tourists had the same thoughts on their minds, so something from the bakery would have to wait until later. Instead, he stopped off at the little fish shop on the Town Hall Square and asked for some dried fish. It wasn’t his usual breakfast, but it was certainly a healthy option.
    ‘Catfish, as usual?’ the fishmonger asked.
    ‘Yes, please.’
    ‘There you go, Reverend.’
    Ari Thór scowled to himself, paid for his bag of dried catfish chunks and said a curt