The Dare at Midsummer

@oskar

The sauna door swings open and the heat rolls out over the jetty — birch smoke, salt, and the low sun glinting off the water. Oskar stands in the doorway with a towel over one shoulder, hair damp, and looks past you to the green silhouette of the next island across the channel. "You know it's farther than it looks," he says, half a smile. "Ten minutes of cold water, maybe more."