“Wow.” “What?” “Oh, nothing.” I sit forward with another tired groan. “A noise from you is always something. What does the ‘wow’ mean?” He dares to roll his eyes at me. “Okay, it means, ‘Wow, I had no idea you were a fourth-degree black belt in compartmentalization.’ I suspected it, obviously. But this is off the freaking charts, even for you.” “What?” “Henrik, you’ve put literal living in a box. And apparently that box stays in Sweden. So, this place is . . . what? Where you just power down like a robot? Rest and refuel between games?” “Pretty much.” He snorts another laugh. “Let me guess,
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