Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne
like Mom and Boss. Maybe Petri had left the phone on the counter because it didn’t contain any secrets anyway.
Almost by accident I opened the picture gallery. The first shot showed a snow-covered mountain scene. The next was considerably darker. It showed a gravestone. A swan flying away, and the words, Paula Johanna Salo, 1985–2012.
Santa Claus must indeed have magic powers.
Although I didn’t have to, I went in to work on Saturday too. The temperature had dropped to minus 14° Fahrenheit during the night, and pale stars still strove to be seen on the horizon when I awoke at six. Petri had not given his last name, but I’d get that from the Stockmann employee directory. I had two guesses: Virtanen or Salo. The night before I had pleaded exhaustion and when I left I had given a false Facebook address with the name Kanerva Hakkarainen. I pulled on a sweat suit and walked to Stockmann. The sun had not shown itself for weeks, but now it rose over the Vanhankaupunginselkä Bay to the east, red as a Christmas tree ornament. The world was silver white, dogs lifted their paws quickly in the snow and tried to fluff out their fur against the biting cold. I tightened my parka hood, pulled
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