She works at Jyderup State Prison.
She has three children, a husband, and a dog, and lives in a single-family home on the eastern edge of Kalundborg.
She sits in her usual seat.
It’s unseasonably warm, but the darkness of winter is the same.
A man walks along the tracks, swinging a lantern.
Behind him she sees the refinery’s lights.
It reminds her of an event she and her two eldest children attended a week ago.
All the lights were turned off, and everyone played badminton with a glow-in-the-dark ball.
When she was fired from the ferry, she began taking courses in preparation for a career in corrections.
The drug dealers are pitiful, and the language is horrible, but at least she doesn’t have to mess with the deep fryer, listen to people complain about the coffee, or smile when someone says something stupid.
The She-wolf, they call her, but she’s learned to ignore stuff like that.
