When I find her, we’ll travel to the sea. He tugs his collar up to his chin and cinches his hands into the sleeves of his coat. Yes, the sea, the great expanse of blue, and we’ll wander along the gray sand, and I’ll find her a perfect shell. He blows warm air onto his freezing hands. He looks again at Daniel’s house. A figure passes by the window. He’s been daydreaming. Daniel is home.He rings the doorbell. The maid opens the door, and a rush of heat surrounds him. It feels as if he could shape it with his hands. He hears the clink of silverware on plates, the rumble of a man’s voice, the laughter of a woman. He inches toward the front room, and there is the smell of garlic and tomato sauce. Daniel bounds into the hallway, his face bright red. He’s exhumed his old self and then some, thinks Jorgen, with the making of a jowl, the unpleasant business of death now conveniently behind him. Daniel gestures weakly toward the guests who are dining in the living room.Perhaps you could come back at a better time?
