“Me neither,” Ove mutters sulkily. “Ove hit the clauwn!” the three-year-old shrieks delightedly.
“Sneak,” says Ove. Parvaneh stares at him, agape, and can’t even think of anything to say.
“He was no good at magic anyway,” the seven-year-old groans. “Can we go home now?” she asks, standing up.
“Why... hold on... what... what clown?” “The clauwn Beppo,” the toddler explains, nodding wisely.
“He was going to do magic,” says her sister. “Stupid magic,” says Ove.
“Like, he was going to make Ove’s five-kronor coin go away,” the seven-year-old elaborates.
“And then he tried to give back another five-kronor coin!” Ove interjects,
with an insulted stare at the nearby security guards, as if this should be enough of an explanation.
“Ove HIT the clauwn, Mum,” the three-year-old titters as if this was the best thing that ever happened in her life.
Parvaneh stares for a long time at Ove, the three-year-old, seven-year-old, and the two security guards.
“We’re here to visit my husband. He’s had an accident. I’m bringing in the children now to say hello to him,” she explains to the guards.
“Daddy fall!” says the three-year-old. “That’s fine.” One of the security guards nods.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색