Freja was at The Aarhus Kunstmuseum; the museum was very empty compared to other days, sunlight streamed in through the large windows

She stopped in front of a piece she had seen a dozen times, yet never fully understood — a large abstract painting of deep blues and scattered dots of gold. As she tilted her head, trying to make sense of it, she sensed someone step beside her.

A guy about her age, maybe slightly older, stood there. Tall, with thoughtful eyes and a quiet presence that matched the room. He glanced at the painting and then at her.

H-hi