Ove looks up at the ceiling. Squints. It’s important for the hook to be centered, he decides.
And while he stands there immersed in the importance of it, he’s mercilessly interrupted by a long scraping sound.
Not at all unlike the type of sound created by a big oaf backing up a Japanese car hooked up to a trailer
and scraping it against the exterior wall of Ove’s house.
A MAN CALLED OVE BACKS UP WITH A TRAILER
Ove whips open the green floral curtains, which for many years Ove’s wife has been nagging him to change.
He sees a short, black-haired, and obviously foreign woman aged about thirty.
She stands there gesticulating furiously at a similarly aged oversize blond lanky man
squeezed into the driver’s seat of a ludicrously small Japanese car with a trailer, now scraping against the exterior wall of Ove’s house.
The Lanky One, by means of subtle gestures and signs, seems to want to convey to the woman that this is not quite as easy as it looks.
The woman, with gestures that are comparatively unsubtle, seems to want to convey
that it might have something to do with the moronic nature of the Lanky One in question.
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