Ove sighs deeply. “Good God, corrugated iron.” Anita doesn’t look the slightest bit less puzzled. “Am I supposed to have some?”
“Rune will have some in his shed, definitely,” says Ove and holds out his hand.
Anita nods. Takes down the shed key from the wall and puts it in Ove’s hand.
“Corrugated. Iron?” she says again. “Yes,” says Ove. “But we don’t have a metal roof.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” Anita shakes her head.
“No... no, maybe it doesn’t, of course.” “One always has a bit of sheet metal,” says Ove, as if this was absolutely beyond dispute.
Anita nods. As one does when faced with the undeniable fact that a bit of corrugated iron is the sort of thing
that all normal, right-thinking people keep lying about in their sheds, just in case there’s call for it.
“But don’t you have any of that metal yourself, then?” she tries, mainly to have something to talk about.
“I’ve used mine up,” says Ove. Anita nods understandingly.
As one does when facing the indisputable fact that there’s nothing odd about a normal man without a metal roof
getting through his corrugated iron at such a rate that it runs out.
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