Seelenstaub

The night is late, nearing the darkest hours when most are already asleep, but the bar shows no sign of closing. The liquor flows like water, endlessly refilling dirty glass mugs, to satisfy insatiable thirst. The music blares uncomfortably loud, but the alcohol seems to make it bearable.     He sits hunched over on a stool, hands clamped around a glass half-full of golden liquid. He quickly downs the drink and promptly asks for a refill. This pattern continues unbroken until the bar finally closes, its former vivacity vanishing swiftly.     He stands and begins to sway; he places a hand on the counte