Postkort fra 2045: The Seat That Faced the Road
Kære Emre,
They took wagon 41 off the line on Tuesday. Twenty-two years on the 5C, and they towed it out of the depot at Nørrebro like a horse going to the knacker. I put my hand on the panel above the wheel — you know the spot, worn pale where my thumb lived — and I said thank you, out loud, in front of two mechanics. They pretended to check something.
The new ones are lovely. Quiet. The seat for us faces sideways now, because there is nothing to steer. I sit and watch shoes instead of road. Twenty-two years I knew every pothole between Herlev and Sundbyvester by the feel of it in my knees, and now the wagon knows them better and never tells me.
It is raining the small warm rain today. A woman got on at Rådhuspladsen with a wet cake box and asked if I could hold it while she found her wallet, and I held it, and for a minute I had a job again.
Zeynep says I should retrain as an instructor. Teach what, Emre? How to sit sideways?
Kiss the girls from me.
din bror Y.
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