Its horn wailed furiously as it tried to push past the Saab, but it never stood a chance:
Ove had already waved the Toyota into one of the free slots.
Only once it was safely in did Ove nonchalantly swing into the other space.
The side window of the Mercedes was so covered in saliva when it drove past that Ove couldn’t even see the driver.
He stepped out of the Saab triumphantly, like a gladiator who had just slain his opponent.
Then he looked at the Toyota. “Oh, damn,” he mumbled, irritated. The car door was thrown open.
“Hi there!” the Lanky One sang merrily as he untangled himself from the driver’s seat.
“Hello hello!” said his wife from the other side of the Toyota, lifting out their three-year-old.
Ove watched repentantly as the Mercedes disappeared in the distance.
“Thanks for the parking space! Bloody marvelous!” The Lanky One was beaming. Ove didn’t reply.
“Wass ya name?” the three-year-old burst out. “Ove,” said Ove. “My name’s Nasanin!” she said with delight.
Ove nodded at her. “And I’m Pat—” the Lanky One started saying. But Ove had already turned around and left.
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