“Please tell me your name.” His words are little more than a whisper.
“Frode.” My name comes out as a croak. I clear my throat and try again. “My name is Frode Nordin.”
“Frode.” He nods as though it makes sense. “Will you please stay if I continue?” He gestures at the camera equipment. “You can’t disappear again now that I’ve finally found you.”
“I’ll stay.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
He takes a step back. And another. Slow, not taking his gaze off me, as though he’s making sure I won’t bolt. When he’s back in his original spot, he picks up more fallen dandelions and lies down, arbitrarily sticking them into his beard. He picks up something else from the grass—a closer look tells me it’s a remote control—but his head is turned in my direction the entire time.
“Wait,” I say and walk clo
