And there was a part of him that missed that bloody old sod.
So, as they say, the brain functions quicker when it’s falling.
Like thinking thousands of thoughts in a fraction of a second.
In other words, Ove has a good deal of time to think after he’s kicked the stool over
and fallen and landed on the floor with a lot of angry thrashing.
He lies there, on his back, looking up for what seems like half an eternity at the hook still up on the ceiling.
Then, in shock, he stares at the rope, which has snapped into two long stumps.
This society, thinks Ove. Can’t they even manufacture rope anymore?
He swears profusely while he furiously tries to untangle his legs.
How can one fail to manufacture rope, for Christ’s sake?
How can you get rope wrong? No, there’s no quality anymore, Ove decides.
He stands up, brushes himself down, peers around the room and ground floor of his row house.
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