"...that laughter of hers, which, for the rest of his life , would make him feel as if someone was running around barefoot on the inside of his breast"

Idiot, thought Ove on that day, and also today, all those years after. And every day in between actually.

"...his hair looks as if someone saved him from drowning in a barrel by pulling him up by his locks" Haha!

Her laughter catches him off guard. As if it's carbonated and someone has poured it too fast and it's bubbling over in all directions. It doesn't fit at all with the gray cement and right angled garden paving stones. It's an untidy, mischievous laugh that refuses to go along with rules and prescriptions.