TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

The Grand Piano Room

something held me firmly in its grip. It wouldn’t allow me to come to my senses. Their problems, thoughts and gossip overwhelmed me, everywhere – in the kitchen, the corridor, in the living room. Or, what was worse, they would thrust an awl into my hand or a chisel, or a hammer and I was constantly required to fix something, make something, renew something. Endlessly. ‘Look, the leg of this small chair is totally loose.’ And I would fix the leg. I helped everybody pleasantly enough, and they all realised it and valued it. But, God, that was what my life consisted of! One night, getting into bed, I discovered somebody else’s body instead of my wife’s. I shouted so loudly that a commotion broke out. ‘Why are you yelling?’ my wife asked. She was, apparently, on the other side of me. ‘And who is this?’ I asked, the fright having caused me to lose my head. ‘What the hell?’ the unfamiliar body said. ‘I have to start work early tomorrow.’ ‘That’s Konkin,’ my wife said. ‘Go to sleep.’ ‘What, Konkin?’ I sat up. ‘You know, the Konkins live with us,’ my wife explained. ‘Why?’ ‘Where else could they live then? On the street?’ I ran out into the corridor in my underwear. There was

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