Good Night, My Darling

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The plane touched down at Arlanda airport at six fifteen in the evening. The first leg had been late to London, which meant that they missed their connection. All the planes to Stockholm had been fully booked. They would not have gotten a seat until the next morning, if the woman from the Embassy had not gotten angry. Her name was Nancy Fors and she had been calm and a bit melancholy the whole trip. The unexpected explosion surprised Justine.

They were the first to leave the plane. Two plainclothes policemen came on board and guided them out through a back way.

“The press has already figured out that you were coming, unfortunately,” one of them said. Justine didn’t quite catch his name.

“They’re real hyenas with all their chomping and slurping, but we’ll fool them.”

They took her into their car.

The light hit her, that pure, cool light and the delicate greenery. She had forgotten that nature could look like that. She mentioned this to Nancy Fors: “Don’t you miss home? How do you manage to live there in that heat?”

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