Her little decorative objects in the window, her hair clips left on the kitchen table, her handwriting on the Post-it notes on the fridge.
The kitchen is filled with those soft wheel marks. As if someone has been going back and forth with a bicycle, thousands of times.
The stove and kitchen counter are noticeably lower than is usual. As if the kitchen had been built for a child.
Parvaneh stares at them the way people always do when they see it for the first time. Ove has got used to it.
He rebuilt the kitchen himself after the accident. The council refused to help, of course.
Parvaneh looks as if she’s somehow got stuck. Ove takes the electric kettle out of her outstretched hands without looking into her eyes.
Slowly he fills it with water and plugs it in. “I didn’t know, Ove,” she whispers, contrite.
Ove leans over the low sink with his back to her. She comes forward and puts her fingertips gently on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Ove. Really. I shouldn’t have barged into your kitchen without asking first.”
Ove clears his throat and nods without turning around. He doesn’t know how long they stand there.
She lets her enervated hand rest on his shoulder. He decides not to push it away. Jimmy’s voice breaks the silence.
“You got anything to eat?” he calls out from the living room. Ove’s shoulder slips away from Parvaneh’s hand.
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