"Cigarette?" asks Sofie as she pulls out her pack.
I nod and let her place it in my mouth. It was a bit of a challenge since Sofie's hand is always trembling but I'm excellent at guiding things into my mouth, so we managed. We both take long drags while dragging our feet down the main (and perhaps the only proper) street of Tromsø. It's such a shame that you never got to visit while I was there; it's really quite a special place. Yes it's true what they say, we don't get any sun at all in the winter on account of it being so far north in Norway. Instead, for twenty minutes at midday the city is encased in a soft twilight. "The Blue Hour", the locals call it. And as quickly as it came, the twilight disappears and we are plunged into a deep darkness again. It goes like this for three months.
The saving grace of living so far north has to be the Aurora Borealis. They come and go as they please and take all shapes imaginable. Sometimes they're pillars of yellow light standing still and tall like a pantheon of the greek Gods. Sometimes they spiral pink and red like a child swirling neon spaghetti on a tablecloth of infinite stars. Sometimes they form a green and purple whip (much like a Balrog's) that stretches across your whole field of vision, from way back behind the mountains in the East and way over the mountains in the West, whipping back and forth with incredible speed before dissolving without a sound.