Then came the final Monday of the proefabonnement .

Week one was an accident. He used it to line the cat’s litter box. But on Tuesday, during a particularly dull Zoom meeting, he unfolded it. He read about a village’s struggle with a stray swan. He read the obituaries of people he didn’t know. He read the weekly price of mussels in Yerseke. It was… slow. Quiet. He fell asleep on the couch at 9:47 PM.

He hadn't read that one yet. But he had time. It was only Monday.

She sat down. She read the culture section over his shoulder. For fifteen minutes, they didn't look at a screen. It felt like a small, forgotten luxury.

"I’m informed," he said, tapping the paper, "that the new roundabout in Kapelle is controversial."

Lotte smiled. "You paid for it, didn’t you?"

He pointed at an article: "PZC Proefabonnement leads to unexpected addiction among younger demographic."

Week three, his girlfriend, Lotte, found him in the armchair. "Are you… seventy years old?" she asked, laughing.