Ove stood in his garden and watched, helpless and in sorrow, as it burned.
When a few hours later he stood in a telephone booth calling the insurance company,
he learned that they had never heard of the jovial man with the round face. There was no valid insurance policy on the house.
The woman from the insurance company sighed, impatiently explaining that swindlers often went from door to door claiming to be from their company,
and that she hoped at least Ove hadn’t given him any cash. Ove hung up, and clenched his fist in his pocket.
A MAN CALLED OVE AND A LANKY ONE WHO CAN’T OPEN A WINDOW WITHOUT FALLING OFF A LADDER
It’s quarter to six and the first proper snowfall of the year has laid itself like a cold blanket over the slumbering community of row houses.
Ove unhooks his jacket and goes outside for his daily inspection.
With equal surprise and dissatisfaction, he sees the cat sitting in the snow outside his door.
It seems to have been sitting there all night. Ove slams the front door extra hard to scare it away.
Apparently it doesn’t have the common sense to take fright. Instead it just sits there in the snow, licking its stomach.
Utterly unconcerned. Ove doesn’t like that sort of behavior in a cat. He shakes his head and plants his feet firmly on the ground.
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