He tries to sound more convinced and sure of himself than he actually feels.
But he doesn’t have the strength to care about how he’s coming across. He just wants them to leave.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” roars Parvaneh.
“You’re the one who doesn’t know what you’re talking about—you’ve never had anything to do with the county council,
you don’t know what it’s like fighting them,” he answers in a monotone voice, his shoulders slumped.
“But you have to talk...” she begins to say in a faltering voice.
It’s as if all the energy in Ove’s body is draining out of him even as he stands there.
Maybe it’s the sight of Anita’s worn-out face. Maybe it’s the insight that a simple battle won is nothing in the greater scheme of things.
A boxed-in Škoda makes no difference. They always come back. Just like they did with Sonja.
Like they always do. With their clauses and documents. Men in white shirts always win.
And men like Ove always lose people like Sonja. And nothing can bring her back to him.
In the end, there is nothing left but a long series of weekdays with nothing more meaningful than oiling the kitchen counters.
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