She tells him to leave the top button undone if he’s not wearing a tie;
he protests that he’s not some urchin who’s renting out deck chairs, before defiantly buttoning it up.
He’s got his dented old wristwatch on, the one that his dad inherited from his father when he was nineteen,
the one that was passed on to Ove after his sixteenth birthday, a few days after his father died.
Ove’s wife likes that suit. She always says he looks so handsome in it.
Like any sensible person, Ove is obviously of the opinion that only posers wear their best suits on weekdays.
But this morning he decided to make an exception. He even put on his black going-out shoes and polished them with a responsible amount of boot shine.
As he took his autumn jacket from the hook in the hall before he went out, he threw a thoughtful eye on his wife’s collection of coats.
He wondered how such a small human being could have so many winter coats.
“You almost expect if you stepped through this lot you’d find yourself in Narnia,” a friend of Ove’s wife had once joked.
Ove didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, but he did agree there were a hell of a lot of coats.
He walked out of the house before anyone on the street had even woken up. Strolled up to the parking area. Opened his garage with a key.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색