“Give me back my watch!” Tom, with a superior expression, looked down at his face. His dark figure towered over Ove like a shadow.
“I don’t have your bloo—” “GIVE IT HERE!” Ove bellowed before Tom had reached the end of the sentence,
so fiercely that the other men in the room saw fit to move a little closer to their lockers.
A second later Tom’s jacket had been ripped away from him with such power that he didn’t even think of protesting.
He just stood there like a punished child as Ove hauled out his wristwatch from the inside pocket.
And then Ove hit him. Just once. It was enough. Tom collapsed like a sack of wet flour.
By the time the heavy body hit the floor, Ove had already turned and walked away.
A time like that comes for every man, when he chooses what sort of man he wants to be. And if you don’t know the story, you don’t know the man.
Tom was taken to the hospital. Again and again he was asked what had happened,
but Tom’s eyes just flickered and he mumbled something about having slipped.
And strangely enough, none of the other men who’d been in the changing rooms at the time had any recollection of what had happened.
That was the last time Ove saw Tom. And, he decided, the last time he’d let anyone trick him.
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