This chapter is awfully late, and not really fitting the festive season, sorry about that. I am writing a Christmas chapter, it was supposed to be out by the 22nd, then 23rd, then the 24th and so on. It will probably be out by 6th of January, no promises.

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The grey days we never remember

He rolled a coin between his fingers, before settling it in his palm. Another longing look at the sugary pastry, and a sigh. It would be soft to bite into, still slightly warm form the oven. The sweet coating would stick to his fingers and melt on his tongue, and then the strawberry jam would fill his mouth in an explosion of – or was it raspberry? He couldn't remember.

A baby wailed somewhere, shaking him out of his stupor. He stuffed the coin into his pocket with a shudder. He would save it instead, one never knew when one would need it.

At the register, he watched intently as the sum was added up. He handed the flimsy paper money to the cashier and dropped the heavy coins into the machine. The happy clinging seemed to laugh at him, like pixies' schadenfreude.

"Receipt?" the cashier asked.

"Yes, please." A faint smile, a quiet "good-day" later and he was walking down the pavement towards his Oslo-flat. The bag, recyclable mind you, was heavy in his hand and cut into his fingers. Rain started falling, a drizzle at first, but soon enough it was pouring down. The sort of silent, cold, miserable downpour that didn't really seem like much, but still seeped through all clothes. He did not have an umbrella. Or a raincoat for that matter. He continued walking, head bowed, as cold water soaked his clothes and matted his hair to his head. He hunched his shoulders and shuddered at a cold gust of wind.

The key turned effortlessly, the door swung smoothly on well-oiled hinges and he stepped into the warm flat. He sat the groceries down on the floor, shrugged off his sopping wet jacket and winced at the feeling of his shirt plastered uncomfortably, wet, cold against his skin. He then hung it on a

It was not his favourite house, and it was obvious. It was clean, it was warm, it was even decorated in that modern, minimalistic way that was so popular with its smooth surfaces and thing, sharp lines in all its black, white, and silver glory. He supposed he could have filled it with personal paraphernalia from other houses, but he had not yet felt an overwhelming need to do so.

It was an office space. He stopped for a moment, contemplating that thought, then resumed restocking the fridge. An office where he could eat, and sleep on his breaks – and the bed would be so much more comfortable than falling asleep over the desk at his official office.

The sky was darkening outside, but electricity really is a marvellous invention. Pulling an all-nighter was very difficult back in the day, the candles would drip on the paper, or be blown out by the wind. All too often he would be out of candles altogether. Now he sat in front of a computer, the key-board lit by a LED-light. He stared at the screen, reading, and occasionally eating some of the spaghetti he'd made for dinner. "Pasta Morbido" Italy had called it. Then he had glared at him for the rest of the meeting.

-Når det ringer- he took the phone and held it to his ear.

"Ja?"

"Hallo, jeg ringer fra Go'boken-"

"Not interested."

"But-"

-click-

Back to work.

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Translations:

Pasta morbido - overcooked spaghetti (there is a rumour going around that some Italian was served spaghetti in Norway and called it pasta morbido)

når det ringer (Nor) - when it (the phone) calls (it's from a song)

Ja (Nor) - yes

Hallo, jeg ringer fra Go'boken (Nor) - Hello, I'm calling from Go'boken

Cultural notes:

I don't really have anyone...

Overcooked spaghetti is much too common in Norway.

Recycling is common in Norway, and even the plastic bags you get at the grocery store can be used several times before they are recycled.

Go'boken means 'The good book', they sell children's books.

Author's note:

This chapter is awfully late, I have tried to murder Writer's Block, but it doesn't seem to work.

The storm Urd met the west coast (of Norway) yesterday, and we are still getting powerful gusts of wind. The weather was kind of crazy, it switched between snow, sleet, rain and sun.

Anyhow, I hope you are well,

Sees,

Shrizyne