It was halfway through the summer of 2012 in Gothenburg, Sweden. High seventies, beaming sun and although Hakan loved nothing more than riding his skateboard rather than walking, he loathed the heat. He loathed the way the heat stripped you of your fluids, your electrolytes. The way it causes your blood vessels to dilate, exuding sweat all over your body. Something about showering to leave and then leaving to sweat, really did grind his gears: but nonetheless, summer was a season.
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Skating around the corner, Hakan noticed that the usually empty street had two figures standing in front of his therapist's building. Cautious, he slowed up in an attempt to get a better glance at the two, only to make out his therapist and one man he had never seen before. By the looks of the close proximity, cigarette passing and casual conversation, he thought maybe a close friend or colleague. Neither of which he cared for. He hoped this wouldn't interfere with his session since he had something important planned for today.
"Så när ska din patient komma?" the man asked. ("So when is your patient set to arrive?")
"Han borde vara här inom de närmaste tio minuterna eller så," she exhaled a cloud of smoke. ("He should be here within the next ten minutes or so.")
Hakan continued to hide in the shadows, skateboard in hand and eavesdropping on their conversation. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but he felt like he needed to hear what her conversations were like without the presence of prying eyes.
"Mmm," he raised his brow. "Vad ska du göra åt honom?" ("What are you going to do about him?")
"He has a lot of issues Anders," she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Jag vill få honom överförd och inlagd på ett psykiatriskt sjukhus i Stockholm," she finished. ("I want to have him transferred and admitted into a psychiatric hospital in Stockholm.")
Hakan had finally decided he'd heard enough and began to skate further down the block, closer to the two. Heads snapping in his direction, they quickly put out their cancer sticks and replaced their scowls with fraudulent smiles.
"Good afternoon Hakan, you're early," she beamed. "This is my colleague and friend Mr. Berglund."
"Trevligt att träffa dig Håkan," he held his hand out. "Jag har bara hört fantastiska saker." ("Pleasure to meet you Hakan." "I've heard nothing but great things.")
Hakan nodded and placed his hand in Anders, firmly grasping it to the point of almost breaking his fingers. Anders winced as the pain shot up to his right shoulder.
