two rows
Saturday night. Nine days.
Two filled rows left on the chart. Sunday 11.53, Monday 11.53. Then the empty ones.
I keep getting up on the chair to look at them, as if something might have been added.
I've thought about being out on Monday. Going to the bakery at half eleven and staying there with a skillingsbolle until one. Then whatever happens at the door happens without me, and I'd never know. I don't think I could stand not knowing. So I'll be here.
Kjell says it's going to be clear on Monday. He says it like that's good news.
The northern lights are out right now, a thin green line over the mountains on the far side, not moving much. Somewhere down the hill the red snowsuits are cheering.