Matilda, Child of Fire

HMV: Einar Rose & Fuglen Text

11 HMV: Einar Rose & Fuglen Text

"Du danser inni hodet mitt/...Baby I love you/Jeg er farlig når jeg er sånn..."

Translation: "You dance inside my head/...Baby, I love you/I'm dangerous when I'm like that..."

-Unge Ferrari, song "Balkong"

5 pm, Week 4, Outside Sagene Bok og Papir, Arendalsgata 12, 0463 Oslo, Norway

Macy reached for her phone and sent a group text to Maggie, Mel, and Matilda (Henry was busy at a writer's retreat, and Maya was preoccupied with a fashion shoot and a neuroscience presentation that afternoon):

We found Morgana, alive and well.

7 pm, Week 5, Hotel Room, Hotel Christiania Teater, Stortingsgata 16, 0161 Oslo, Norway

Macy surveyed herself in the mirror, not for the first time, wondering whether the short-sleeved Olivera: Zac Posen cocktail dress was appropriate for her 8 pm rendezvous, its mysterious, enigmatic dark electric blue and shadowy black hues positively beckoning for her to try it on, when she had purchased it earlier that day at a local boutique. What attracted her to the Olivera outfit was that the item would provide 79 essential supplies for a family in need through Save the Children, and she felt a certain level of obligation to give back to society after having achieved a relative level of success in her scientific career pursuits. Only one way to find out.

8 pm, Outside Fuglen, Universitetsgata 2, 0164 Oslo, Norway

The coffee bar had a bright cranberry-red circular logo, depicting a bird launched upwards into flight. Macy counted exactly twelve minimalist wood tables spaced apart by equal lengths, affixed to what appeared to be slotted park benches on the side closest to the café's walls, with wooden chairs on their opposite side. A warm lamplit glow emanated from within the shop, as she read the signage aloud, guessing that "Te" was "tea." She noticed a man sitting behind the glass wall, his attention toward whatever newspaper he was catching up with at that time of the evening, his dark reading glasses framing the chestnut silky hair that framed his visage—Norway certainly had its share of extremely attractive men, but this was the first time she'd seen a dark-haired gentleman—oh wait—she gave a start—that's Harry. She laughed to herself as she entered the sleek black metal-rimmed reflective glass doors.

8:01 pm, Fuglen, Universitetsgata 2, 0164 Oslo, Norway

Harry read the English-language Aftenposten ("The Evening Post"), peering curiously at the upper-righthand page, noticing a familiar bun of curly auburn and greying hair, when he felt two lithe arms embrace him from behind, causing him to sport a lopsided smile as he turned around and kissed her squarely on the lips. He noticed that she was dressed in a rather form-fitting ebony and feathery indeterminate, mysterious shade of blue. "Love," he murmured into her tawny curls, "you look absolutely divine."

"I could say the same about you," Macy murmured, stroking his slicked-back chestnut hair between her fingers, kissing him again, this time on his forehead, as she took the seat beside him to face the coffee bar's glass window, and the grey cobblestone street before them. Glancing behind her, she was pleasantly surprised to notice vintage décor in various corners, teak wood furnishings, a jukebox, and what appeared to be menus situated on clipboards throughout the cozy, eclectic establishment. Spotting one nearby her seat, she stood and regarded the beverage offerings. Words such as "Vinglet, Einar Rose, Balder Belafonte, and Galetangs" intrigued her, as she perused the various listed ingredients for each heady concoction. The Balder Belafonte had coconut and lime elements, but Macy was in a slightly more adventurous mood, opting for a Brutal Barista when she walked to the main counter to place her order.