“Let’s hope so, my friend.” Esther tucked her arm around his elbow and gave it a squeeze. “Come on. It’s this way.”

They entered the building and found the elevator. The closer they got to their goal, the longer Gregers’s pauses lasted.

Esther noticed that he had put on the blue plaid shirt that he usually only wore for festive occasions and that he had combed his thinning gray hair.

The waiting room had fewer chairs than people and seemed to buzz with a restless energy. Esther let the receptionist know they had arrived and towed Gregers into a corner where they would be as out of the way as possible.

“Why did we have to hurry so much if they’re just going to make us wait?”

Esther noted that he seemed less confused and more like his old, crotchety self. A chair became available, and she was just about to nab it for him when the doctor’s door opened.

“Gregers Hermansen?”

The doctor was wearing casual jeans and a knit top. Even so, she managed to look more efficient than everyone else in the place combined. Her healthy mien identified her better than any lab coat could have.

Esther nudged her roommate into the doctor’s office, trying to avoid taxing the doctor’s patience. The doctor offered her hand and then showed them a seat in the sunshine-yellow-painted office, where cobalt-blue art posters adorned the walls.

“Well, Gregers, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” she began. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing great.” He sat up very straight.

“That’s wonderful to hear. So how can I help you today?” The doctor rolled her office chair closer to him, ready to get to work.

“That’s a good question!”

“You’ve had trouble breathing,” Esther said, patting him on the arm. “Don’t you remember?”

“I’m doing great.” He smiled derisively.

“Well, since you’re here, how about I give you a listen anyway?” the doctor said, getting her stethoscope ready.

“By all means.”

Gregers scooted forward in his chair so the doctor could access his chest. She got to work with the stethoscope and instructed him on his breathing.

“Well, Gregers, I’d like to run a couple of blood tests. I’m picking up a little bit of noise in your lungs, and we need to find out what’s causing it. Do you smoke?”

“No, never have.”

Esther knew that was a lie.

“Gregers, you used to smoke when you moved into my old place on Klosterstræde, a pack a day. We argued about it because the smoke wafted up into my apartment.”

“I’ve never smoked,” Gregers insisted, shaking his head.

Esther made eye contact with the doctor, who raised her eyebrows, and got up to fetch vials and sterile needles.

“Roll up your sleeve, Gregers, and I’ll draw a blood sample.”