“Morbror?” The baby monitor on my bedside table crackles, waking me up. A soft voice echoes around my room. “Morbror? Jag behöver hjälp.” I sit up, rubbing my face. Oh fuck. Realizing where I am and why, I lunge for the monitor. Karro’s awake. Poor thing is probably as jet-lagged as we are. I don’t know what she’s saying in Swedish, but I imagine it likely has something to do with using the bathroom.
