Train // DenNor

A Mathias from Copenhagen

It's just a normal day. There is nothing more, nothing less. It's just a normal day in Oslo, the cars driving and honking, and the people walking and laughing. Truly an amazing day for some, while this day is a total nightmare for others.
And me? What about me? I'm in the middle. Like I said, just a normal day. Is there really anything with that?

I'm going home. After a long day at work, I too shall dump home and relax to my peak. That is what everyone does. The normal flow.

I take the train, as I don't quite have a car. I could take a driver's license, but why should I? The train brings me anywhere I want anyways.
The train is normal enough. Not too many people, and still room to sit down. Perfect. I sit down, and look out the window. A perfect way to relax, and a normal one at that.

"Hej!"
A voice interrupts my careful window slumber. I look to the owner of the voice. A man with some spiky hair looks at me. The voice was kinda crisp, it does suit him a bit. He opens his mouth again,
"Can I sit here?"
He points at the seat next to mine. I look him in the eyes. He could just sit anywhere else. Why would he choose the seat next to me?
Without saying anything, he sits down. Ah. Perfect. A complete idiot seated next to me.

"I'm Mathias. Mathias Køhler!", he says with a too happy voice.
"Lukas."
He looks at me like he wants me to continue.
"Bondevik."
He gets what he wants and smiles. Mathias. That's his name. Aha. Now I know a Mathias. Lucky me.

"You come from Norway, right?", he asks me.
That opens up the question that he probably isn't from here. Why would he approach me in English too, if he really was Norwegian.
"Yes," I quickly say. Not too much. He seems to notice my lack of words, but he doesn't say anything.
"I come from Denmark. Danmark, ja?", he says. I can add more to my Mathias naming list. Now I know a Mathias from Denmark.
He looks proud of himself. Why? Is it that special to move to Norway? Oh. Another question.

"Why did you come to Norway?", I ask. Maybe he's just on vacation.
He looks out the window, before turning to my eyes.
"I want to look around a bit. Copenhagen's a good place, but it can be a bit tiring," he says to me. A faint touch of sorrow nears in his voice. Does he miss Copenhagen?

"Can you learn me Norwegian?", he says. No sorrow left in his voice.
That came quickly.
"Uh, sure, but why?", I ask him. I gotta match his tempo.
"I can't speak English here forever!", he says and laughs. He has a quite big laugh. Did everyone hear him?
"Sure sure, but why can't you just speak Danish?", I ask.
Danish and Norwegian are quite similiar. I'm sure I'd understand him.
"Well.. I tried that, but they look at me quite weird. Maybe it'll be better if I just learned the language," he says. A small smile creeps up on his face.

His stop passes by. That's what he says, anyways.
"My stop's now. Hey, let's talk more about that Norwegian later!", he says. He goes up to the door and goes out. I look after him. He notices and waves. Idiot. I quickly turn away.
I notice something on his seat. A small little paper strip. He forgot something! I take it up in my hands.

"Call me." And then his phone number. He.. he really meant what he said. I don't add the number now. My stop is near. I'll surely add him when I get home.