It was one of Majda’s don't-know-how-many attempts to land a job. After an entire week of visiting cafés and all the other glassed-in spaces, and hoping that two young foreigners who didn’t possess the language or any special skills wouldn’t fall into prostitution, but into decent manual labor instead, the girls decided to split up. They grabbed the addresses from the yellow pages stolen from a phone booth at the railroad station. Heads meant east, tails meant west, and so Majda took the bus number three-three-seven all the way to Stockholm’s suburbs. The name of the restaurant was Galjonen.