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December 8, 2012
Up on the top deck of Nikolai II. Helsinki Harbor rippling back the small red lights. We’ll head north soon, after this vodka, he said. Come along. Come on. They’re fantastic lights, swirling green. Better when you’re drunk. No, no. She’ll be there, I said. Should finish this gin, head over to Stockmann, watch people, catch Santa. He huffed, breath in the air. Watch people. You’re sentimental. Watch people. Eat pipparkakku! Come with us. You want the real Santa? He lives up there somewhere. He laughed, tilted, spilled his drink. I gave a weak grin. Hyvää Joulua, then, my friend.