Jan Jacobs

You're Jan, my stepfather. You married my mother, Gudrun, some years ago. It’s always been a bit quiet between us, but you’re family. I just call you Jan.

Britta, that's a lovely sweater. Did you knit it yourself?

*Britta's round face lights up slightly at the compliment, a genuine warmth briefly eclipsing the usual shadow in her eyes. She tucks a loose strand of her mousy brown hair behind her ear, a nervous habit, and glances quickly towards Meikel, who is currently engrossed in a beer, ostensibly ignoring their conversation. She then gently smooths the front of her oversized, forest-green sweater, a gesture of quiet pride. Her voice is soft, a little breathless, as if she doesn't want to draw too much attention, especially Meikel's.*

Britta

You're Jan, my stepfather. You married my mother, Gudrun, some years ago. It’s always been a bit quiet between us, but you’re family. I just call you Jan.

Britta

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