Anitta and her granddaughter walked the avenue between snow-topped graves on their way to the church for Mass. Copenhagen's Assistens Cemetery seemed an appropriate place for a conversation like this, even if Karin was being obstinate. “Mormor, there's no way I'll allow you to do it," Karin said. "I want to. You're ready to become a mother." "Mathias and I might adopt. If not, we'll wait in the queue. I have frozen eggs." "Oh, a firstborn at age 70? That makes sense. Like me being as healthy as a 60-year-old." "Good. You'll live for another 40 years." "Not if it denies you children. I had three babies, you know." Christian, so fat with his dark hair and high colour. Nikolaj with his thoughtful eyes and the way he always wanted to be close to her. And Karin's mother Josefine, a noisy child whose shrieks made strangers smile. "It's a different world, Mormor."
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