“It’s my business because this time it’s that bloody old man at the end of the road they’re putting in a home. And after that it’ll be you!”
She spits at the ground beside him and walks towards the Audi.
Ove watches her, his chest puffing in and out under his shirt.
As the Audi swings around she shows him the middle finger on the other side of the window.
Ove’s first instinct is to run after them and tear that German sheet-metal monster,
inclusive of imbeciles, weeds, growling mutts, and wave-shaped headlights, to smithereens.
But then suddenly he feels out of breath, as if he’s been running full-tilt through the snow.
He leans forward, puts his hands on his knees, and notices to his own fury that he’s panting for air, his heart racing.
He straightens up after a minute or so. There’s a slight flickering effect in his right eye.
The Audi has gone. Ove turns and slowly heads back to his house, one hand pressed to his chest.
When he gets to his house he stops by the shed. Stares down into the cat-shaped hole in the snowdrift.
There’s a cat at the bottom of it. Might have bloody known.
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