There used to be a forest here but now there were only houses. Everything paid for with loans, of course. That was how you did it nowadays.
Shopping on credit and driving electric cars and hiring tradesmen to change a lightbulb.
Laying click-on floors and fitting electric fireplaces and carrying on.
A society that apparently could not see the difference between the correct anchor bolt for a concrete wall and a smack in the face.
Clearly this was how it was meant to be. It took him exactly fourteen minutes to drive to the florist’s in the shopping center.
Ove kept exactly to every speed limit, even on that 35 mph road where the recently arrived idiots in suits came tanking along at 55.
Among their own houses they put up speed bumps and damnable numbers of signs about “Children Playing,”
but when driving past other people’s houses it was apparently less important.
Ove had repeated this to his wife every time they drove past over the last ten years.
“And it’s getting worse and worse,” he liked to add, just in case by some miracle she hadn’t heard him the first time.
Today he’d barely gone a mile before a black Mercedes positioned itself a forearm’s length behind his Saab.
Ove signaled with his brake lights three times. The Mercedes flashed its high beams at him in an agitated manner. Ove snorted at his rearview mirror.
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