Kære Kasper,

The heat has settled over Toftegårds Plads like a wet towel and won't lift... the flat holds it till long past midnight. I keep the window open. The new lamps out front do that leaning thing now, tilting toward whoever walks under — a woman came home late last night and they all bowed to her like she was somebody. Preben would have had opinions about that.

Fru Nielsen from the third floor has moved to a care flat out in Rødovre. They cleared her rooms in a single morning. I watched the little cart-thing carry her boxes down and I thought, is that all it comes to, one morning...

You haven't called in a while. That's all right. Aarhus is meant to swallow you whole for a bit, that's what gymnasium is for. I just talk to the kitchen more than I mean to.

I still set two cups some mornings. Three years and my hands haven't learned. The second one goes cold and I pour it out and that's the day, more or less.

Ring when you can. Not because you must.

Din mormor, Birthe

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