But it’s actually wrong, all this. She married him.
And now he doesn’t quite know how to carry on without the tip of her nose in the pit between his throat and his shoulder.
That’s all. He unscrews the lid and distributes the pills along the edge of the washbasin.
Watches them as if expecting them to transform into little murderous robots. Of course they don’t. Ove is unimpressed.
He finds it quite inexplicable how those little white dots could do him any harm, regardless of how many of them he takes.
The cat sounds as if it’s spitting snow all over Ove’s front door.
But then it’s interrupted by another, quite different sound. A dog barking.
Ove looks up. It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then he hears the cat yowling with pain.
Then more barking. And Blond Weed roaring something.
Ove stands there gripping the washbasin. Closes his eyes as if he could blink the sound out.
It doesn’t work. Then at last he sighs and straightens up.
Unscrews the lid of the bottle, pushes the pills back into it. Goes down the stairs.
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