Suddenly Esther realized that it might be inappropriate of her to call Jeppe’s girlfriend and ask for a favor. She was about to backpedal when Sara replied.

“I’d love to help, but I don’t think I can do it over the phone. I’m not in the office today. My eldest daughter is home sick, but could you maybe stop by tonight after dinner? Nine o’clock? Then we can look at it together.”

Esther, who didn’t normally go out at night, accepted gratefully and hung up. The thought of soon being able to submit a pitch to publishers with both cover image and title made her feel positively giddy.

Dóxa whined, and Esther went into the kitchen to feed her. The room was semidark, and it wasn’t until she stood in front of the refrigerator that she noticed the figure at the table.

Her heart leaped into her throat. She lunged for the switch and turned on the light.

Gregers was sitting at the table squinting at her in fear.

“What the hell? You scared me!” Esther scolded him, adrenaline making her grumpy. “What are you doing, just sitting there?”

“Well, pardon me for living. I was just composing myself and then you come barging in and start yelling.” He pursed his lips prudishly, offended.

Esther took out the kibble and dished up one serving for Dóxa, mixed a spoonful of liverwurst into it, and set the dish on the floor. By the time the dog was happily munching away, she had calmed down. She looked at her roommate and realized that he was wearing his zipped-up jacket and his old driving cap.

“Did you go out?” she asked him. “Is something wrong?”

He looked at her in surprise and then down at himself. Apparently he had forgotten that he was still in his outerwear. There was a piece of paper in front of him.

“What’s that?”

“I just wrote down what the doctor said.” Gregers looked at the piece of paper, seeming lost.

“Can I see?”

Esther skimmed the notes from his conversation with the doctor. The results from his blood tests. Written in Gregers’s unsteady cursive. The words loomed large on the paper.

• Further testing
• Increased risk
• Heightened suspicion
• Contrast dye

“Well, that just means they want to do some more testing on you to make sure there’s nothing seriously wrong.”

The kitchen fell quiet. Gregers took off his cap and set it on the table in front of him, like a busker expecting coins.

“I’m”—his voice trembled—“so afraid of dying.”

Faced with Gregers’s fear of death, Esther felt acutely awkward. Here she was traipsing around, toying with death as a curiosity, a source of excitement and interest.

She squeezed his hand.