Det var en kølig efterårsdag, da Mikkel satte sig i toget mod sin hjemby.

It was a cool autumn day when Mikkel sat on the train toward his hometown.

Bladene havde fået sine gyldne farver, og som toget gled gennem landskabet, blev han mindet om de mange efterår, han havde tilbragt i byen.

The leaves had turned their golden colors, and as the train slid through the landscape, he was reminded of the many autumns he had spent in the town.

Det var længe siden, han sidst havde sat sine ben i de velkendte gader.

It had been a long time since he last set foot in the familiar streets.

Men denne gang var det anderledes.

But this time was different.

Denne gang kom han for at stemme i en vigtig valg og vise, at han stadig var en del af fællesskabet.

This time he came to vote in an important election and show that he was still part of the community.

Mikkel havde efterladt byen for nogle år siden.

Mikkel had left the town a few years ago.

Han havde valgt karrierens vej i storbyen.

He had chosen the path of a career in the big city.

Men der hjemme tænkte han ofte på Freja.

But at home, he often thought of Freja.

Hun var blevet i byen.

She had stayed in the town.

Hun var en som alle kendte, en der organiserede lokale begivenheder, et ansigt med en altid venligt smil.

She was someone everyone knew, someone who organized local events, a face with an always friendly smile.

Da Mikkel gik mod valgstedet, mærkede han en nervøsitet i maven.

As Mikkel walked toward the polling station, he felt a nervousness in his stomach.

Skolen, hvor valgstedet lå, var pyntet med græskar og farverige guirlander.

The school, where the polling station was located, was decorated with pumpkins and colorful garlands.

Han kunne høre hvisken fra folk, der talte lavmælt med naboer og venner.

He could hear whispers from people speaking quietly with neighbors and friends.

Følelsen af fællesskab hang tungt i luften.

The feeling of community hung heavily in the air.

Indenfor i gymnastiksalen genkendte han straks det velkendte syn af barndommens skole.

Inside the gymnasium, he immediately recognized the familiar sight of his childhood school.

Borde og stole var stillet op, og valgplakater prydede væggene.

Tables and chairs were set up, and campaign posters adorned the walls.

Årene var gået, men stedet var uforandret.

Years had passed, but the place was unchanged.

Forude i køen så han Freja.

Ahead in the queue, he saw Freja.

Hun hilste varmt og gik ham i møde.

She greeted him warmly and came to meet him.

"Mikkel!"

"Mikkel!"

sagde hun med et stort smil.

she said with a big smile.

"Det er godt at se dig."

"It's good to see you."

"I lige måde, Freja," svarede han og krammede hende.

"Same here, Freja," he replied and hugged her.

"Jeg er ked af, at jeg er blevet væk."

"I'm sorry I've been away."

Frejas øjne lyste af forståelse.

Freja's eyes shone with understanding.

"Vi har alle vores veje," sagde hun blidt.

"We all have our paths," she said gently.

"Men det er vigtigt, at du er her nu.

"But it's important that you're here now.

Det betyder meget for byen, at du kommer for at stemme."

It means a lot to the town that you've come to vote."

Deres samtale gik fra munter til alvorlig, da de talte om de udfordringer, byen stod overfor.

Their conversation turned from cheerful to serious as they talked about the challenges the town faced.

Boligerne, jobmulighederne, og de unge, der forlod byen for aldrig at vende tilbage.

The housing, job opportunities, and the young people who left the town never to return.

Mikkel lyttede, og han følte en fornyet forpligtelse til at forsøge at gøre en forskel.

Mikkel listened, and he felt a renewed obligation to try to make a difference.

Efter samtalen bevægede han sig mod stemmeboksen.

After the conversation, he moved toward the voting booth.

Papiret var glat under fingrene, og med et kryds følte han en dybere forbindelse til byen.

The paper was smooth under his fingers, and with a checkmark, he felt a deeper connection to the town.

Han havde troet, at han var blevet ligegyldig, men han indså, at selv en enkelt stemme kunne have betydning.

He had thought he had become indifferent, but he realized that even a single vote could matter.

Da han trådte ud af skolen igen, omfavnet efterårsluften ham, og han følte en lethed i sit skridt.

As he stepped out of the school again, the autumn air embraced him, and he felt a lightness in his step.

Freja fulgte ham udenfor.

Freja followed him outside.

"Det var godt at se dig, Mikkel," sagde hun og tog hans hånd.

"It was good to see you, Mikkel," she said, taking his hand.

"Vi burde holde kontakten."

"We should keep in touch."

"Det vil jeg gerne, Freja.

"I'd like that, Freja.

Jeg tror, jeg har brug for det," svarede han med et nyt håb.

I think I need it," he replied with a newfound hope.

Som han gik ned ad den gamle, snoede vej, vidste Mikkel, at han kunne gøre en forskel.

As he walked down the old, winding road, Mikkel knew that he could make a difference.

Ikke alene for sig selv, men for byen, for Freja, og for dem, der kom efter ham.

Not just for himself, but for the town, for Freja, and for those who came after him.

Han følte sig hjemme igen.

He felt at home again.

En følelse af tilhørsforhold skyllede ind over ham, stærkere end nogensinde før.

A feeling of belonging washed over him, stronger than ever before.