"I just don't know what to do" Brent said.

"Donate money" Catherine told him. "Donate blood. Donate clothes."

"No, I mean in general" Brent said. "I mean . . . I've got to do grocery shopping. I get paid in a couple of days and there was a D.V.D. I was going to go and buy! But now it all seems so . . . normal. I feel ashamed to be doing any of it. Like I'm just getting on with life, same as always, and out there in the bush there's thousands of people who . . ."

"I know" Catherine said. She hugged him. "I was supposed to go to drinks with some girlfriends on Wednesday night. How am I supposed to do that now?"

"But we shouldn't even be complaining about it" Brent said. "I mean it's kind of obscene, in a way. Us complaining about how hard we're having it. I just feel frozen. There's nothing I can do."

"You've done the same as everyone else in the city" Catherine said. "You've made sure your friends are okay. You've donated what you can. But life has to go on."

"Not for everyone." Brent wiped his nose. "Is it bad that I don't even want to watch the news any more?"

"It's normal" Catherine insisted.

"I just can't stand it right now. I need to hear about something else other than the bushfires." He laughed bitterly. "Fuck, isn't that a luxury! Just being able to switch off the whole thing like that!"

"You think you're the only one?" Catherine said, starting to get a little angry at him. "You think everyone around the city's not doing the exact same thing?"

"It feels wrong."

"There's nothing that feels right at the moment. This whole fucking thing's wrong. There's not a not-wrong thing about it."

Brent's stomach gurgled.

"Let's have something to eat" Catherine said. "You can't possibly feel guilty about having something to eat."