[Scene: A cozy Copenhagen café on a windy April afternoon. Mads sips a cinnamon latte, while Lukas scrolls through his tablet.]
Mads: (grinning) You know what tomorrow is, right?
Lukas: (glancing up) Your cousin Freja’s birthday?
Mads: Yup! She’s turning 25. You know what that means.
Lukas: (groaning slightly) Don’t tell me… the cinnamon thing again?
Mads: Oh, absolutely! We’ve already bought two kilos of it. We’re giving her the full kanelbombe! It’s tradition, Lukas. She’s unmarried and 25. It’s the rules.
Lukas: (laughs) Mads, “the rules”? Who made these up—some spice merchants with too much inventory?
Mads: (mock-serious) Hey! This goes way back. Supposedly from the 16th century—traveling spice salesmen who were too busy for love. It’s Danish culture! If you’re 25 and single, it’s cinnamon. If you’re 30, pepper!
Lukas: Right. Because nothing says “Sorry you’re single” like a sinus infection and third-degree spice burns.
Mads: It’s all in good fun! Freja’s expecting it. We even got her goggles this time.
Lukas: You know, you’re turning people into pastry ingredients. What’s next? Covering 35-year-olds in frosting?
Mads: (laughs) Now that’s a sweet idea. But come on, Lukas. Traditions connect us. They’re funny, they bring people together. Even foreigners find it charming!
Lukas: Sure, it looks fun in a TikTok clip. But have you considered how weird it is to shame someone for not being married by 25? I mean, people are getting married later—or not at all—and that’s totally fine.
Mads: It’s not shaming. It’s a rite of passage. Like throwing mortarboards at graduation or singing drunk at julefrokost.
Lukas: (leans in) Except graduation and julefrokost don’t leave you scrubbing cinnamon out of your ears for a week. Remember Anders last year? He sneezed brown powder for two days.
Mads: That was a cinnamon enthusiast’s dream!
Lukas: Or a pulmonologist’s nightmare. Look, Mads, I’m not saying ditch the tradition entirely. But maybe tone it down? Do something symbolic instead of dumping literal kilos on people.
Mads: Like what? Light a cinnamon-scented candle and whisper “happy birthday”?
Lukas: I don’t know… maybe bake them cinnamon rolls. Or give them a humorous card with a sachet inside. Keep the joke, ditch the respiratory hazard.
Mads: (pauses) Huh. You know, my cousin Lasse did complain last year. Said his cat didn’t recognize him for a week.
Lukas: There you go. Even felines know it’s excessive.
Mads: (sighs, mock dramatic) You’re turning me into a cinnamon skeptic. What’s next? You gonna tell me knocking on wood doesn’t change the universe?
Lukas: It doesn’t. Unless your knuckles are powerful quantum particles.
Mads: (laughs) Fine, fine. I might swap half the cinnamon for confetti this year. But only because Freja just got a new white coat and I kinda like my life.
Lukas: Progress! That’s all I ask. One less spicy assault in Denmark.
Mads: Deal. But you have to come help me clean up after. Cinnamon and confetti is going to be a nightmare.
Lukas: (smiling) As long as there’s actual cinnamon rolls afterward, I’m in.
[Fade out as they toast with their coffees, cinnamon drifting in the air—but this time, safely inside a latte.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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