Kære Maja,

Went down to the basement this morning to look for the box of Freja's old drawings — the ones she wanted scanned before her exhibition. Didn't find them. Found her first bicycle instead. The pink one with the bell shaped like a strawberry. Hanging from a hook I don't remember putting in.

I sat on the step for a while. The building's climate layer hummed at me — it does that on Saturdays now, asks if you want the basement dehumidified. I said no. I wanted it to smell the way it smelled.

Lilacs are early this year. The whole stairwell up to our flat smells like the spring she turned six, when you made that cake with too much cardamom and we ate it anyway.

I'll keep looking for the drawings. They're somewhere. The flat got smaller after the renovation but the storage didn't, which is its own small civic mystery.

Tell her the bicycle is fine. Tell her I left it where it was.

A.

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