Margit Fagerbekk

Margit Fagerbekk

  • Margit Fagerbekk
    Published 2 years ago
    Fix

    Fix

    Mary Bright didn’t like to consider herself a regular customer. And she absolutely detested me calling her a regular patient. But the crooked curliness of her signature on my appointment sheets through the past three weeks pointed towards the obvious fact: Mary Bright was, beyond all doubt, my most regular patient and my highest paying customer. Before her consultation with me I was puzzled. She’d called in, made an appointment, but didn’t have a specific procedure in mind. The day of the appointment she came tip-toeing into the office. An astonishingly average looking woman. Tall, but no model height. Skinny, but strongly built. Shoulder length hair without layers and in terms of bone structure, quite a square shaped face. I greeted her with my name, but got nothing in reply. The whole vibe of her nervousness was disturbing at first, but I guess I got used to it.
  • Margit Fagerbekk
    Published 2 years ago
    How to Talk to Norwegians

    How to Talk to Norwegians

    Because of their extreme shyness, Norwegians might seem like some of the most confusing people you’ve ever met. Visiting Norway for the first time, you may feel like you’ve landed on a different planet rather than a different country. This doesn't mean that you should avoid talking to Norwegians or visiting Norway. In order to interact with Norwegians, you need to get a look into the well-established rules and customs that control the social interaction between them, even though it may seem like they’ve been taken a bit too far. This guide will explain some of these rules and make sure that, once in Norway, you will be able to act as ‘Norwegian’ as possible.
  • Margit Fagerbekk
    Published 2 years ago
    A Red and White Striped Apron

    A Red and White Striped Apron

    Barbra Jennings was tiny. Still, having her beside you was like standing next to a giant. Her bright red hair was cut into a groomed pixie cut and combed to one side. Her chubby face, sharp-looking eyes squished into the back of the hollow sockets, and her mouth looking like it was permanently pointing downwards made up her somewhat ghastly appearance. Her figure could take up a double hallway. Her breasts hung down and hovered over her nonexistent waistline. The giant layered lump of her upper body led down to a pair of stick thin legs with tiny feet that seemed to struggle carrying the rest of her. Waddling like a penguin, the round, wobbly lump that defined Barbra made its way through doors and hallways. Seeing her crunched over a tray of pastries, one could easily imagine the weight of her chest tipping her over and her pointy, crooked nose slowly sinking into the warm custard. To the people coming in and out of the bakery, she grinned, laughed, made jokes and quite often slipped in a little something extra when handing over the pastry boxes. The business flourished, so she only gained by doing so. The satisfied smirk that dominated her puffy face when she left the counter was beyond any customer’s observation. Her ability to disguise herself this way was performed with bewildering mastery. It was truly fascinating to watch.