When the Škoda turns off by the bike shed, their eyes meet through the side window.
The man looks directly at Ove and rolls down his window. Lifts his eyebrows, disinterested.
“Motor vehicles prohibited!” Ove repeats, pointing at the sign where the very same message is written.
He walks towards the Škoda with clenched fists. The man hangs his left arm out of the window and unhurriedly taps the ash off his cigarette.
His blue eyes are completely unmoved. He looks at Ove as one looks at an animal behind a fence.
Devoid of aggression, totally indifferent. As if Ove were something the man might wipe off with a damp cloth.
“Read the si—” says Ove harshly as he gets closer, but the man has already rolled up his window. Ove yells at the Škoda but the man ignores him.
He doesn’t even pull away with a wheel spin and screaming tires; he simply rolls off towards the garages
and then onward to the main road, as if Ove’s gesticulation was of no more consequence than a broken streetlight.
Ove stands rooted to the spot, so worked up that his fists are trembling.
When the Škoda has disappeared he turns around and walks back between the houses, so hurried that he almost stumbles over his own legs.
Outside Rune and Anita’s house, where the white Škoda has quite clearly been parked, are two cigarette butts on the ground.
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