JEPPE RAN UP the stairs to the fifth floor. There was no elevator in this old apartment building on the shadow side of Nyhavn. The door flew open and hit a moving box of vinyl records and paperbacks that needed to go up to the attic. That box had been sitting in the entryway for six months now. Maybe he should just throw it out.

He entered his apartment and breathed in the stagnant air that is found in homes where no one lives. He didn’t bother turning on the light—after all, he was only here to pack up some clothes for the next few days. His apartment was on the very top floor, right under the roof, with a view of the Charlottenborg museum. It had been his for almost a year and a half now, but he had never really moved in. In the beginning, he and Sara had tried to alternate back and forth at each other’s places, but it had been too complicated with the kids.

Now he commuted between work and Sara’s apartment in Christianshavn and lived out of his sports bag. He stopped by his own place once or twice a week to do a load of laundry and pick up his mail, but he only stocked the fridge at Sara’s, never here. Jeppe pulled jeans and T-shirts off the drying rack and folded them, then put away half and packed the other half into his sports bag. A life as free as a backpacker’s, but perhaps a little measly, too.

Jeppe noticed that the sofa had been made up as a bed, which must mean that Johannes had been by recently. He had given him a key so his friend had a place to spend the night when he was in town and didn’t feel like making the trip all the way up the coast to Snekkersten. Sara was right that it was silly not to use this apartment properly. It was big and expensive. Maybe they should just take the plunge and find a place together. How difficult could it be, after all, to be a stepfather to her two daughters? Besides, he was getting a little sick of living out of his sports bag.

He slung the bag over his shoulder, locked up, and jogged back down the stairs. The evening was clear and mild, and he decided to walk over the bike bridge to Christianshavn. That walk along the water always did him good, even now, when he couldn’t help searching the harbor for a white boat.