Postkort fra 2041: The Bin That Said No
Kære Kasper,
I am writing this while I am still cross, so forgive the handwriting.
The new sorting station in the courtyard rejected my bag again. Third time this week. It lights up red and says, in that patient little voice, "Please review your organic fraction." I HAVE reviewed my organic fraction, thank you. It was a teabag and some potato peel. Your grandfather would have kicked it, God rest him, and honestly I considered it...
And the Mortensens downstairs have those little garden-drones now, buzzing along their balcony rail watering the geraniums at seven in the morning. Seven! Preben used to water ours with a chipped jug and it never once woke the whole street.
I know, I know — you'"ll
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