Old man, Vienna, Austria

It is an absolutely gorgeous day in Vienna, warm and breezy enough to walk through alleys and get lost.  She sees the ferris wheel in the distance and walks towards it.  Prater is partially an amusement park, a thriving and lively spot to check out.  As she passes by couples and families walking hand in hand, she suddenly realizes how alone she is.  It sure is lame to be at an amusement park all by oneself.  She notices the exterior of Pratersauna, which looks colorless and boring during the daytime.  It is supposed to be an up-and-coming club with quite a selection of Techno and Electro music.  She was on the fence about going out tonight, but her mother asked her to return to the hotel before sundown and she happily decides to comply.  Plus, if being at a club alone is anything like being alone at an amusement park, it will probably be awkward for her.

On her way back to the hotel, she takes a detour to find the stables where the Lipizzaner stallions are resting. Earlier today, she was spellbound by these beautiful white horses of the Spanish Riding School.  They have been trained to lift their front hooves into the air, standing nearly verticle on two legs, unveiling their true height and elegance.  At this very moment of vulnerability, these majestic creatures would kick off their back hooves to seemingly levitate for a split second.  Her tattoo artist could not have chosen a more extraordinary animal to draw on her back. 

"Dear, are you lost?"

She turns around and sees a grandfatherly man in his fifties or sixties smiling at her.  For some reason, she does not perceive any threat.  Oh, there is a reason, her whimsical naivety.  She explains that she is looking for the stables and he takes her there.  He tells her that he used to live in California and work for government agencies as a translator.  Basically, he used to be all that.  Because she misses her chance to politey part ways with him, she continues to walk with him through the city center.  Because she has no excuse not to and she is hungry, she accepts his request to have dinner with him.

They step inside the St. Stephen's Cathedral.  The interior is plastered with projections called Chromotopias designed by Victoria Coeln.  Strange, her furrowed eyebrows read.  He urges her towards the rows of lit candles and asks her to light one for their "enduring friendship."  The slight smile that has been on her lips immediately vanishes as she firmly declines.  It is getting a bit weird.

On the way to the restaurant, he makes a lighthearted comment that she is awfully sweet.  Perhaps he was simply trying to woo her.  Little did he know that this is one of her worst pet peeves.  When somebody tells her that she is nice, extroverted, bubbly, sweet, or anything along those lines, unless she feels that this person knows her through and through, she gets extremely defensive.  Yes, it is a compliment, but she is against misleading people and setting unreasonable expectations.  She drops her pleasant attitude, glares straight into his eyes, and says in a humorless tone, "Don't tell me I'm sweet.  You don't know me."

The rest of the night goes rather unpleasantly for him.  Once she began noticing deceit, she stops being agreeable.  He attempts to earn back her sympathy by telling his life story, of being manipulated by his mother, being married to a woman he did not love, and ending up all alone.  Instead of indulging him, she takes every opportunity to make uncomfortably poignant remarks.  She walks away from him, without knowledge of his original or truest intent of approaching her.  All she can think about is her broken promise to get back to the hotel before sundown.