Below them, a southern right whale breached, sending a spray of silver into the low light. Its body hung for a second like a punctuation mark, then crashed back into the deep.

"Now open."

Maya watched the whale’s tail slip under the water. Her chest loosened.

"Kind of," Maya admitted. "My mum just sent a photo. There’s a foot of snow on the driveway back home."

"Missing the cold?" asked Leo, sliding into the chair beside her. Outside the window of their Sydney office, the jacarandas were dropping purple blossoms onto sun-baked pavement. The air smelled of eucalyptus and salt.

"Close your eyes," Leo said.