“Don’t interfere,” says Ove, who, while perhaps not an expert at defrosting cats,
does not appreciate at all having people marching into his house and issuing orders about how things should be done.
“Be quiet, Ove!” says Parvaneh and looks entreatingly at the young man. “What shall we do, then? He’s ice-cold!”
“Don’t tell me to be quiet,” mumbles Ove. “He’ll die,” says Parvaneh.
“Die my ass, he’s just a bit chilly—” Ove interjects, in a new attempt to regain control over the situation.
The Pregnant One puts her index finger over his lips and hushes him.
Ove looks so absurdly irritated at this it’s as if he’s going to break into some sort of rage-fueled pirouette.
When Parvaneh holds up the cat, it has started shifting in color from purple to white.
Ove looks a little less sure of himself when he notices this. He glances at Parvaneh.
Then reluctantly steps back and gives way. The young, overweight man takes off his T-shirt.
“But what the... this has got to be... what are you DOING?” stutters Ove.
His eyes flicker from Parvaneh by the sofa, with the defrosting cat in her arms and water dripping onto the floor,
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