
By Anders Totland
‘It won’t be long now,’ Idun said.
‘You don’t have to arrange anything for me,’ I said.
Idun smiled.
‘Of course we do,’ Idun said.
‘No, it’s fine,’ I said.
‘Are you afraid it will be too much fuss?’
I gave a slight nod.
‘Are you in a lot of pain?’
Another nod.
‘But don’t tell dad anything,’ I said.
It’s winter, and it’s snowing, but not everyone is out playing in the snow. Someone can’t do anything but stand at the window looking out at the snow crystals. Someone doesn’t want dad to know that something hurts, even though dad knows that one’s ill, seriously ill. Someone is soon going to have a birthday. Someone is soon going to die.