“Why are you so terrifically angry?” the garage door wondered. Ove was starting to look hesitant. He leaned towards Parvaneh.
“I... don’t know how to get rid of her,” he said,
and if Parvaneh had not known better she might have concluded that there was something pleading in his eyes.
“I don’t want her in there on her own with the Saab!” he whispered gravely. Parvaneh nodded,
in confirmation of the unfortunate aspects of the situation.
Ove lowered a tired, mediating hand between the three-year-old and the cat before that situation went out of control around his shoes.
The three-year-old looked as if she was ready to try to hug the cat.
The cat looked as if it was ready to pick out the three-year-old from a lineup at a police station.
Ove managed to catch the three-year-old, who burst into peals of laughter.
“Why are you here in the first place?” Ove demanded of Parvaneh as he handed over the little bundle like a sack of potatoes.
“We’re taking the bus to the hospital to pick up Patrick and Jimmy,” she answered.
She saw the way Ove’s face twitched above his cheekbones when she said “bus.” “We...” Parvaneh began,
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