Too Easy

It was the middle of December, but no snow had fallen yet. As usual, Frank thought as he pulled into the parking lot in Lina Hage in Södertälje. He had lived here his whole life. And he had watched most things decay over the years. Crime had increased, and the town wasn’t the same as when he was young.

He stayed in the car for a moment, his hands resting on the steering wheel. His knuckles ached after the day’s shift, a dull, throbbing pain that no longer really went away. Six decades on earth, and his body had begun to protest against everything he asked of it.

At the warehouse, people talked about cutbacks. “Efficiency improvements,” the boss called them. Frank knew what that meant. Fewer hours. Fewer colleagues. Fewer chances to stay on. And he wasn’t stupid — he saw how the younger ones moved faster, lifted heavier, smiled wider. He himself had started to fall behind. It was hard to admit, but even harder to ignore.

He ran a hand over his face. The debts at home were growing, everything was getting more expensive. Electricity and food were the worst. He couldn’t afford to lose his job. Not now. Not when everything already felt like it was slipping out of his hands. Monica nagging about going to Spain this summer was something he knew was impossible, but he kept quiet. He didn’t want his wife to be disappointed. Again.

He sighed, pulled his jacket tighter around himself, and stepped out into the raw December air. It was dark even though it was only just after four in the afternoon. The light from the streetlamps reflected in the puddles scattered across the parking lot. He locked the car and started walking toward the row house.

He turned on the lights in the hallway and then in the kitchen and brewed a cup of coffee to warm himself. He glanced at the large pine kitchen clock and saw that it would be almost two hours before Monica came home. She had to stay late at the preschool again today. They had a hiring freeze, and many of the regular staff were out. She would be tired. And sad. And lie down in the living room with the blanket over her head. Maybe skip dinner again.

Frank sighed. He thought about all the dreams they had had about how, in their old age, they would travel the world and enjoy retirement. But that would never happen. Their pensions would barely be enough to live on. Still, they had saved money for years. But as everything got more expensive, their buffer disappeared too.

Frank had also started gambling online. The dream of a life without worrying about making it through the month was strong. But it had started to become a problem. Even there, the debts were growing. Still, he picked up his phone and opened the casino almost without thinking. It had become a habit, a bad one. His thumb slid across the screen, chose the game, pressed “spin.” The colors flashed, the reels spun, and for a few seconds it felt like everything could turn around. But it never did. The amounts dropped, slowly but surely, and he felt the debt — both the one in his account and the one in his chest — grow.

He could have sat there forever, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Reluctantly, he stood up and went to open it. Outside stood Milan. The relatively new neighbor. The one with the Tesla. Milan looked like someone who didn’t quite belong in the area. More like a person from Djursholm or Lidingö, or wherever people with “good” incomes lived.

“Hi, Frank, right?” Milan said. “We talked a bit during the yard cleanup this fall, and I remember you mentioned you were struggling a bit with…”

He cleared his throat, as if he regretted starting.

“Yeah, with most things.”

Milan looked at Frank, then into the house behind him. A smile spread across his face, revealing a row of bright white teeth.

“You, I need help with something. And of course you’ll be paid.”

Frank waited. The money would be very useful. He just hoped it didn’t involve heavy lifting. His back wouldn’t handle that.

“Well, I need to drop off a suitcase on Södermalm, and I have no way of doing it myself. The problem is that it has to be done right now. The guy who was supposed to do it can’t anymore.”

Milan opened the door a little more, and Frank saw the large silver-colored suitcase standing beside him.

“It’s simple. Just go to this address, drop off the suitcase, and you’ll get twenty thousand kronor from the recipient.”

He handed Frank a note with a handwritten address. Warning signals blared in his head. There was something not quite legal about all this, but still Frank heard himself say:

“Yeah… I can do that, of course. I’ll just get dressed.”

Milan smiled, even wider if possible.

“That’s good, Frank. Lucky I have such a kind neighbor. I’ll leave the suitcase here. And say hello to your wife.”

Then he turned and disappeared quickly.

Frank glanced at the clock. If he hurried, he would have time to get into the city and back before Monica came home. He put on his outer clothes, locked the door, lifted the suitcase, and walked toward the car. Twenty thousand kronor… that was a lot of money. More than he had seen in a long time.

He started the car and drove onto the highway. There was some traffic as people were getting off work, but it wasn’t bad enough to slow things down. As he approached Stockholm, he felt an unexpected relief that he had learned to use the GPS. It guided him without him having to think. And for once, he found a parking spot almost immediately, just a few meters from the address.

Frank walked up to the entrance and pressed the button next to the nameplate. There was a buzzing sound, and the door unlocked without anyone saying anything. He swallowed and stepped inside. The elevator was the kind that smelled of new plastic and cleaning agents, and he felt out of place even before the doors closed.

When he reached the floor, the door was already ajar. He had time to think it was strange before it opened fully.

A boy stood there. Twelve, maybe thirteen. Thin, pale, wearing a hoodie that looked far too big. He didn’t look like he belonged in an expensive high-rise. Not at all.

The boy said nothing. He just held out his hand.

Frank hesitated, but handed over the suitcase. The boy took it without effort, as if it weighed nothing at all. Then he pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Frank.

“Here,” he said shortly.

Frank took it. Felt the thickness. The money was there. He nodded, without really knowing why, and stepped back. The boy closed the door without a word.

When Frank came out onto the street again, the air felt colder than before. He slipped the envelope inside his jacket and started walking toward the car. He had almost reached it when he heard footsteps behind him. Several people walked quickly into the entrance he had just left. He barely had time to turn his head before the door slammed shut behind them.

A few seconds later, a sound was heard. Dull. Unclear. Like something hard hitting something else. He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t want to know.

He got into the car and started the engine. As he drove out of the street, he saw blue lights further ahead. Police cars turning into the area. He felt his pulse rise, but he forced himself to look straight ahead.

“Strange that they showed up right now,” he muttered to himself. “Just a coincidence. Must be a coincidence.”

He repeated it several times, as if the words could protect him.

When he reached the highway, he let out a long, shaky breath. He placed his hand on the jacket where the envelope lay. Twenty thousand kronor. More than he earned in several weeks.

And it had been so easy. Too easy.

But somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, another thought lingered. One he tried to push away. What was that young boy doing there? Was he alone? What had he actually heard? In recent years, the news had talked about how crime was creeping down in age.

If he could do this — a sixty-year-old man who should know better — how easy was it then for a twelve-year-old boy?

Frank didn’t want to think about the incident anymore. Now he just wanted to go home. Eat something luxurious. They could order takeout. Monica liked sushi. That would make her happy.

He leaned forward and turned on the radio. An old song flowed from the speakers, and he began humming along, a little too loudly, a little too off-key. Anything to keep the thoughts away.

When he pulled into the parking lot, the first snowflakes were falling. They melted immediately on the hood. He sat there for a moment before getting out of the car.