with eager, jumped-up real estate agents trying to get into the house before the ambulance men have so much as got the corpse out.
And those bastards are not coming in here, scratching up Ove’s floor with their shoes.
Whether over Ove’s dead body or not. They had better be quite clear about that.
He puts the stool in the middle of the floor. It’s coated in at least seven different layers of paint.
Ove’s wife decided on principle that she’d let Ove repaint one of the rooms in their house every six months.
Or, to be more exact, she decided she wanted a different color in one of the rooms once every six months.
And when she said as much to Ove he told her that she might as well forget it.
And then she called a decorator for an estimate. And then she told Ove how much she was going to pay the decorator.
And then Ove went to fetch his painting stool. You miss the strangest things when you lose someone.
Little things. Smiles. The way she turned over in her sleep. Even repainting a room for her.
Ove goes to get his box of drill bits. These are single-handedly the most important things when drilling.
Not the drill, but the bits. It’s like having proper tires on your car instead of messing about with ceramic brakes and nonsense like that.
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