TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

Danutė Kalinauskaitė

they are, like wells, made for carrying money. It ’s logical. And he, the green, would go first, so as not to draw suspicion, but not so far that the brown, hanging back conspiratorially, would lose him from his sight: “No fancy maneuvers, buddy!” They managed to walk the minefield to the river without raising suspicion, and there you aren’t anymore the brown or the green – just anonymous gray. You warm yourself in the sun, with your clothes in carefree bundles under your heads, and listen to the buzzing of bees: so pleasing to the ear. Only now, with the danger at a distance, did the young one feel the wolf in his chest, pacing ever smaller circles, baring its fangs, preparing to strike. “What in the devil have I got myself into?” The money, the lock of hair ’s money, smelling of her, the darkness of her corners, the rabbit, protruding from his pant pocket, under his head, was burning a hole in his skull. How will he live with a hole in his head? If only he could tie a rock to the bundle… It would sink down into the river, and that would be that, kaput. He would tell the older one, it was there and gone, do with me what you will. Kill me if you have to! “Oh, the drama, the drama… Why did I ever take that scab?” thought the older one. “He doesn’t have any imagination, doesn’t have anything, a blockhead, can’t even pretend to be like a normal person – look how his fingers treacherously twitch. His legs quiver… If we get caught, then it ’ll only be because of this one with no balls.” He himself


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