with clown paint all over her face and sunglasses so big that one can’t tell whether they’re a pair of glasses or some kind of helmet.
She also has one of those handbag animals, running about off the leash and pissing on the paving stones outside Ove’s house.
She thinks Ove doesn’t notice, but Ove always notices.
His life was never supposed to be like this. Full stop.
“Won’t it be nice taking it a bit easy?” they said to him at work yesterday.
And now Ove stands here by his oiled kitchen countertop.
It’s not supposed to be a job for a Tuesday afternoon.
He looks out the window at the identical house opposite.
A family with children has just moved in there. Foreigners, apparently.
He doesn’t know yet what sort of car they have. Probably something Japanese, God help them.
Ove nods to himself, as if he just said something which he very much agrees with.
Looks up at the living room ceiling. He’s going to put up a hook there today. And he doesn’t mean any kind of hook.
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