>>2600279>>2600279The sun, awoken from its short nap behind the clouds, and, by all indications, at least slightly irritated on this account, vomited light into the verdant corridor of Honey Locusts through which Herr Professor Nietzsche ambled. The vice of a burgeoning migraine began to clench his head, sprouting from the base of his ocular nerves toward the deepest core of his being.
Leaving the Stadtpark, Herr Nietzsche crossed the Ringstraße on his return to his modest hostel. As is the case with nearly all extremely lonely people, especially those alienated by those few close friends they may have once considered ‘brothers’, and almost exclusively those whose now-enemies were, at 7 o’clock this evening, gloating on the stage of what appeared to be a city-stopping Opera premiere, Herr Nietzsche found himself in the habit of speaking aloud to himself.
“Ach,” the Professor spat, nearly blinded by rising pain and fury, “mein evening will go unsalvaged if I lack the release of physical and spiritual perambulation.”
And yet, as he prepared to ascend the steps to his hostel’s lobby, a young minx who, as indicated by her blunt reek of alcohol and stumbling gait, was in the throes of an exultantly Dionysian evening, caught his eye. As she weaved closer, Nietzsche became intimately aware of the warm crimson-tinge dabbed across her high cheekbones and dark hair, nearly as dark as her widening pupils.
Having by now reached him on the sidewalk, Nietzsche found the tantalizing seductress to be leaning toward him, preparing to whisper. As her perfume danced through his mind, mixing with the spring’s vibrant odors of life, he felt the tickle of her face running lightly across his mustache.
