Maybe he’s not quite as fumbling with his hands as he is with words.
They wipe off the dirt with a rag from the trunk of the Saab, avoiding eye contact with each other.
“I hope the lady’s worth it,” says Ove and closes the trunk.
Now it’s Adrian’s turn to look nonplussed. When they go back into the café,
there’s a short cube-shaped man in a stained shirt standing on a stepladder, tinkering with something that Ove suspects is a fan heater.
The sooty boy stands below the stepladder with a selection of screwdrivers held aloft.
He keeps mopping the remnants of makeup around his eyes, peering at the fat man on the ladder and looking a little on the nervous side.
As if worried that he may be caught out. Parvaneh turns excitedly to Ove.
“This is Amel! He owns the café!” she says in a suitably gushing manner.
She points to the cubic man on the ladder. Amel doesn’t turn around, but he emits a long sequence of hard consonants
that, even though Ove does not understand them, he suspects to be various combinations of four-letter words and body parts.
“What’s he saying?” asks Adrian. The sooty boy twists uncomfortably.
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