“To fix something,” Ove answers curtly, three steps ahead of her, with the cat half jogging at his side.
“What thing?” “A thing!” Parvaneh stops and catches her breath.
“Here!” Ove calls out and stops abruptly in front of a little café.
A scent of fresh-baked croissants comes through the glass door.
Parvaneh looks at the parking area on the other side of the street where they left the Saab.
In the end they could not have parked closer to the café. At first Ove had been absolutely convinced that the café was at the other end of the block.
That was when Parvaneh had suggested they could possibly park on that side,
but the notion was abandoned once they found that parking cost one kronor more per hour.
Instead they had parked here and walked all around the block looking for the café.
Because Ove, as Parvaneh had soon realized, was the sort of man who, when he was not quite certain where he was going,
just carried on walking straight ahead, convinced that the road would eventually fall into line.
And now when they find that the café is directly opposite the spot where they parked,
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