Ove had put on the coffee percolator, using exactly the same amount of coffee as on any other morning, and then drank a cup with his wife.
One measure for each cup, and one extra for the pot—no more, no less.
People didn’t know how to do that anymore, brew some proper coffee.
In the same way as nowadays nobody could write with a pen. Because now it was all computers and espresso machines.
And where was the world going if people couldn’t even write or brew a pot of coffee?
While his proper cup of coffee was brewing, he put on his navy blue trousers and jacket,
stepped into his wooden clogs, and shoved his hands in his pockets
in that particular way of a middle-aged man who expects the worthless world outside to disappoint him.
Then he made his morning inspection of the street.
The surrounding row houses lay in silence and darkness as he walked out the door, and there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Might have known, thought Ove. On this street no one took the trouble to get up any earlier than they had to.
Nowadays, it was just self-employed people and other disreputable sorts living here.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색