Kevät

Rain quietly smears the cobblestones of a small Norwegian town as Aksel waits outside the bank, glancing at his watch and feeling the place is both familiar and oddly distant. His brother Torkild arrives with a red‑spotted terrier, and their terse chat about punctuality, language, and a yearning to leave for the mountains reveals a restless tension beneath the polite exchange.

They mention Rose Wegner, a name that stirs vague nostalgia, while Aksel’s thoughts drift back to Hellerud’s courtyard, its towering maple and the golden spring leaves that once promised endless possibility. Caught between family expectations and a lingering grief, Aksel senses that a journey away might finally break the monotony, yet the prospect feels both inviting and deeply unsettling.