Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

Laura Sintija ČCerniauskaitėe

moistness between her thighs when she looked at her husband through the window. ‘Ilya‘s very strange,’ Gailius said tapping his spoon on the picture of the pear on the oilcloth covering the table. Liudas turned towards to house, as if having instinctively sensed Isabel’s scrutiny. His glance was terrible. Ignoring Isabel’s face at the window which was hot with desire, his gaze pierced the walls of the house like a cold ray of light and then spun back again to the road. ‘It seems to me, he’ll never be able to be my brother,’ Gailius continued. ‘And it ’s not that I don’t want him to be. He looks at us like a . . . fox.’ ‘That ’s enough!’ Isabel interrupted absentmindedly. Having stubbed out his cigarette in a can, Liudas came towards the house. ‘You don’t listen to me! All the time you’re thinking about something else, something a long way away. Or about some- thing that doesn’t exist. It seems to me that you’re only interested in things that don’t exist.’ ‘You mean illusions?’ Isabel glanced at Gailius vaguely. ‘Aren’t you clever? A fox, did you say? A fox came into the yard?’ ‘Mama, I think you’re all tired of me,’ Gailius said

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