TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

By Remote Means

he had tasted spoiled soup… In the courtroom, they didn’t “recognize” each other. What was there to recognize? The younger one, a suspect in a robbery case, now looked older than the judge, and it would not have been too much of a stretch to consider him his father. His teeth, as the writer said, had already “counted off every other”. Thin, and thinning, hair covered with a reddish panama hat, the type more suited for going fishing or butterfly hunting than for a court appearance, a hat he often clutched in his hands. His skin dried out, like an ash tree, those types have usually seen it all… Soon, something else became apparent: time-washed eyes with the color of chicory which seemed to have made their peace with everything already – humble, yet able to suddenly darken and cut. Razor blades. Closing his eyes, the marbles of his pupils tolling under his lashes, nostrils flaring as if he were sensing the direction of the breeze, he took an interest in the necklace on the judge’s neck depicting Themis’s scales of justice: my oh my… And the older one, having decided to evaluate the situation nonchalantly, as completely disconnected from himself, blamed himself in vexation for times past: “And why for those innocent childish escapades did I choose this guy, this baggy-pants. As if there weren’t any other rascals to choose…” But baggy-pants – the judge soon removed his glasses and cleaned them on the edge of his robe – did not feel at all like a baggy-pants in the courtroom. By no


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