A HALF SHEET by August Strindberg

The last vanful of furniture had disappeared; the tenant, a young man with mourning crape on the hat, once again walked through the flat to see, if he'd forgotten anything. No, he hadn't forgotten anything, nothing at all; and then he went out, in the hall, determined not to think about what he'd experienced in this flat. But in the hall, close by the phone, a half sheet was nailed on; and it was filled with writings in several types, some with plain ink, others scrawled with lead or red pencil. There it was, this beautiful story, which had been reflected in the short time of two years, everything he wanted to forget was there, a piece of human life on a half sheet.

He took down the sheet; it was a sun-yellow paper, which shines. He put it on the tiled stove and read it. First her name was written: Alice, the most beautiful name he knew at that time - because it was his fiancée's. And the number: 15 11. It looked like the number of a hymn. Afterwards was written: the bank. It was his job, the holy job, which gave the bread, the home and the wife, the foundation of the existence. But it was crossed-out! For the bank no longer existed, but he'd been saved by another bank - after a short time of much anxiety, though. Then it came. The flower shop and the driver. It was the engagement, when his pocket were filled with money.

Subsequently: the furniture dealer, the upholsterer: he settle down. The removal firm: they move in. The box office of the Opera 50 50. They are newly married and go to the Opera on Sundays. Their best moments, when they're quiet, and meet in beauty and harmony in the fairyland on the other side of the curtain. A male name follows, which is crossed-out. It was a friend, who'd reached a certain position in the society, but couldn't carry the happiness and fell, hopelessly, and has to travel far away. That's how fragile it is. At this point, something new seems to have entered the life of the couple. It says, written by a woman, and with a lead: "The lady." What lady? The one with the big coat and the friendly, sympathetic face who arrives so silently, and never walks through the drawing-room, but goes by way of the corridor to the bedroom.

Below her name, "Doctor" is written. For the first time, the name of a relative appears. It says "Mum". It is the mother-in-law, who discreetly has hid herself because she doesn't want to bother the newly-weds, but now she's called for in time of need, and happily arrives, since she's needed. At this point, a big scrawl with blue and red begins. The commission office: the maid has moved, or a new one is to be employed. The pharmacy. Hmmm! It's getting dark! The dairy. Milk is ordered, free from tubercle. The grocer's shop, the butcher, etc. The house is managed by phone; then the housewife is not there. No. For she is ill in bed. He could not read the following, for it's getting dark in front of his eyes, as it has to be for a drowning person at sea, when he's looking through saltwater. But there it said: The funeral parlour. That speaks for itself! One bigger and one smaller, understood: coffin. And it was written in brackets: of ashes. Afterwards, nothing more was written! It ended with ashes; and that's what it does. But he took the sun-yellow paper, kissed it and put it in his breastpocket.

In two minutes, he'd experienced two years of his life. He wasn't stooping, as he went out; on the contrary he carried his head high, like a happy and proud person, for he felt, that he'd still possessed the most beautiful thing. There are many poor ones, who've never done that!