Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

Breathing into Marble

‘Don’t talk to me like that,’ she replied quietly. ‘What?’ ‘And don’t pretend you can’t hear.’ ‘I can hear everything, mama. I can even hear things that I don’t understand.’ ‘Last night I couldn’t get to sleep for a long time and I felt that . . .’ ‘Did you have a head ache?’ ‘No, but it seemed that Ilya wasn’t sleeping, he was walk- ing around the house . . .’ Isabel was sitting at the kitchen window looking out into the yard where Liudas was cleaning the soles of his shoes on the grass. ‘I think that ’s what was happening.’ ‘What?’ she asked absentmindedly. ‘The veranda door kept squeaking. He walks around at night.’ ‘He went to the toilet.’ ‘No.’ Liudas lit a cigarette and stood gazing out at the road, frowning. He exhaled the smoke. Suddenly she desired him. He looked so distant with his hair ruffled by the wind. That hadn’t happened for a long time – that

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