When they get to the churchyard, Ove plays it safe and scrunches up the remains of the newspaper into a ball, with which he roughly pushes the cat out of the car.
Like, letting it stay bottled up in you, you know, with your shoulders all scrunched up and just clenched all tight, it's just - it's not - you're not living life like they would want you to do.
He looked directly at me and scrunched up his face. If you looked up, " seriously, bruh? " in the dictionary, this guy's face would be there. I couldn't help but laugh. We both did. His name was Greg.