Ove was never a cheerful man, that’s just how he was after the loss of his father and wife. He was nothing but the old grumpy man in the neighborhood who constantly nitpicks flaws like bicycles left outside of the bicycle parking space and not inside the parking garage.

He was very strict with the rules and with himself, waking up at precisely 6:30 with no alarm needed, every day. He would brew himself a cup of coffee as one should. It’s only proper to brew your own coffee. Nowadays people used machines instead. But today that stopped, he was done with everything. Today he would finally rest.

The third time Ove stops drilling and glares at the door. As if he may be able to convince whoever is standing outside to disappear by his mental powers alone. It doesn't work. The person in question obviously thinks the only rational explanation for his not opening the door the first time around was that he did not hear the doorbell. Ove steps off the stool, strides across the plastic sheets through the living room and into the hall. Does it really have to be so difficult to kill yourself without constantly being disturbed?

"What?"

fumes Ove as he flings the door open.