"but i was never married," you say. you realize you have said this in spanish, a language which you have never studied.

the judge shakes his head impatiently. "the victim was not your own wife, of course," he says, "but the wife of the man in whose place you now stand trial."

you notice a mirror on the table in front of you. "we always supply a mirror," the judge says. you look at your reflection.

"johann whokebe," the judge says, "stand to receive your sentence."

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1013289&forum_id=2#11934704)

you stand quietly for a few moments, waiting for further instructions, but none seem to be forthcoming. your shoulders slump in defeat, and as you turn to go, a cry springs unbidden from your lips and breaks the sepulchral silence of the courtroom: "pero no soy culpable!"

the judge stares at you, his eyes flashing with a secret fire. the only sound is the precise clicking of the court reporter's Hermès typewriter - the same model, you inanely recall, as belonged to Dickie Greenleaf in The Talented Mr. Ripley. and why does the court reporter appear so familiar? sweat beads on your brow, and now there is absolute silence. surely you have gone mad...

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1013289&forum_id=2#11934987)

A+++++ continuation by my pumo brother

A++++++++++++ thread

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1013289&forum_id=2#12767972)

if not, 180 x a million

(https://xoxohth.com/thread.php?thread_id=1013289&forum_id=2#12850628)