where he would have been had it not been for that problem with his heart, the words slipped out of him before he understood why.
“I’m doing my military service over there,” he said, waving vaguely.
“So maybe we’ll see each other on the train going back as well. I go home at five...”
Ove couldn’t think of anything to say. He knew, of course, that one does not go home from military installations at five o’clock,
but she clearly did not. So he just shrugged. And then she got on her bus and was gone.
Ove decided that this was undoubtedly very impractical in many ways. But there was not a lot to be done about it.
So he turned around, found a signpost pointing the way to the little center of the tiny student town where he now found himself,
at least a two-hour journey from his home. And then he started walking.
After forty-five minutes he asked his way to the only tailor in the area, and, after eventually finding the shop, ponderously stepped inside
to ask whether it would be possible to have a shirt ironed and a pair of trousers pressed and, if so, how long it would take.
“Ten minutes, if you wait,” came his answer. “Then I’ll be back at four,” said Ove and left.
He wandered back down to the train station and lay down on a bench in the waiting hall.
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