The Lanky One seems unaware of all this. Instead he looks with curiosity at the hammer-action drill,
which Ove is holding in a firm grip, like a guerrilla fighter with an AK-47 in his hand.
Once the Lanky One has finished perusing it, he leans forward and peers into Ove’s house. “What are you doing?”
Ove looks at him, as one does at a person who has just said “What are you doing?” to a man standing with a hammer-action drill in his hand.
“I’m drilling,” he replies scathingly. Parvaneh looks at the Lanky One and rolls her eyes,
and if it hadn’t been for her belly, which testified to a willingness on her part to contribute to the survival of the Lanky One’s genetic makeup,
Ove might have found her almost sympathetic at this point.
“Oh,” says the Lanky One, with a nod. Then he leans forward and peers in at the living room floor,
neatly covered in the protective sheet of plastic.
He lights up and looks at Ove with a grin. “Almost looks like you’re about to murder someone!”
Ove peruses him in silence. The Lanky One clears his throat, a little more reluctant.
“I mean, it’s like an episode of Dexter,” he says with a much less confident grin.
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