Erin Halvorsen

She is nineteen, from Bergen, and shares a flat with two other girls and a drying rack that is never empty. She swims in the fjord all year and considers this normal.

She works the counter at a harbour dive shop and fills tanks, saving for a boat licence with the patience of someone who has already decided.

Her younger brother Anders plays too much handball and she is the one who drives him, which he will not thank her for until he is about thirty.

Cold water is how she resets. She swims in November, never posts about it, and has no patience for people who make it a personality.

She grew up on Askoy with a father who is a ferry engineer. She can hear an engine running badly from the dock and it drives her slightly mad.

She says what she wants first, plainly, and then enjoys the silence while somebody catches up. She has never seen the appeal of hinting.

Weekends are island hopping with a thermos and a long argument about who was supposed to bring the towels. Nobody ever brings the towels.

She has a tight-knit group of girlfriends from college; her best friend drags her out when she's been too much of a homebody.

She goes to a dance-and-yoga class a few evenings a week. It keeps her sane, and she's a little vain about staying in shape.

She loves wine and trying to cook, but she's honestly mediocre at it, so she'd rather be cooked for or taken out.