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Discovering his foot fetish with the new neighbor.

I had left the hall tired, somewhat baffled, and determined to go back to the apartment and embark on a deep review of all my set theory notes from the previous semester.

The rain began to fall harder now. With the initial vanguard of watery troops dispatched across the field of battle, the raindrop horde was clearly ready to cast the main body of its muster into the fray. "Heh," I muttered to myself with grim laugh, "I wonder if they'll send in their 'storm troopers?'"

I immediate shook my head, castigating myself for uttering the wretched pun, even with no one else around to hear it. "Bad geek, bad! " I muttered.

As I neared the apartment, I found I increasingly had the street to myself. It appeared that most of the other students that normally traversed this part of campus had probably decided to delay their movements until the downpour passed. Of those few that were out and about, the majority seemed to have done a better job than I of planning for the weather, and were wearing water-resistant jackets or carrying umbrellas. I saw only a couple other unfortunate scholars who were getting as thoroughly soaked as I.

Drops of moisture began to combine in icy runnels down my back, and my head and neck might as well have been immersed. My shirt, a plain cotton short-sleeve, was rapidly soaking through. I increased my pace, tromping sullenly through newly formed puddles.

A thunder clap rolled over me, preceded by a jab of lighting that had flickered in my peripheral vision less than a second before. Boogers, I thought, pretty damn close. Thunderstorms were common in the area and, this time of year, were prone to spawning tornadoes. I comforted myself with the fact that I at least ought to be able to get indoors before any twisters hit. A few second later, another lightning bolt struck-close, I thought, probably striking the stadium, and the accompanying thunder was atop me in a shuddering crush of sound. Clearly, this was not good--the heart of the damn storm was right on top of me. I worked through pretty much my entire vocabulary of four-letter words over the course of the next fifteen seconds, cursing my luck and lack of foresight and remedial cursing skills under my breath.

Contrary to expectations-mine, anyway, the sky was strangely light. Boiling black thunderheads almost completely darkened perhaps two thirds of sky-the two thirds in front of and immediately around me--but the cloud cover directly to my rear was minimal and a fair amount of ambient illumination still was still present. This created stark, strange variations in luminosity that somehow made every detail of my surroundings "pop." I felt like I had walked onto one of Frank Miller's chiaroscuro splash pages.

I turned a corner and squelched my way across an empty intersection, congratulating myself on the fact that I was entering the home stretch-just a couple blocks to go. At this point I crossed the crest of a gently sloping hill, a residential neighborhood stretching before me, two stories of brick-fa__ade apartment buildings of the same design and generation as the one I lived in arranged in neat procession to either side of the street. By this time I was alone, with no sign of pedestrian or vehicular traffic in sight. Since there were no garages or parking structures in the area those students with cars had no choice but to park at the curb, and the street was lined with empty vehicles, silent and still.

This was the moment, the precise moment, at which my world turned white.

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