He did not say it as a question, just a short confirming statement.
Ove didn’t answer. The director nodded.But the men in your family are not the kind who tell.
That was not a question either. And Ove didn’t reply.
The director noticed that he straightened a little at the words “the men in your family.”
The director nodded again. Put on a pair of glasses, looked through a pile of papers, and started writing something.
As if in that very moment Ove had disappeared from the room.
Ove stood in front of him for so long that he quite seriously began to doubt whether the director was aware of his presence.
The director looked up. “Yes?” “Men are what they are because of what they do. Not what they say,” said Ove. The director looked at him with surprise.
It was the longest sequence of words anyone at the railway depot had heard the boy say since he started working there two years ago.
In all honesty, Ove did not know where they came from. He just felt they had to be said.
The director looked down at his pile of papers again. Wrote something there.
Pushed a piece of paper across the desk. Pointed to where Ove should sign his name.
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