My classroom purgatory lay on the edge of campus, and with unplanned good fortune, my apartment sat just beyond a seedy commercial district which boasted several establishments draped in blue. I pulled emphatically at the solid wood door that granted access to the windowless bar, and stepped into the utterly dark transition of the curtained foyer. My eyes adjusted to the dim light while my ears adjusted to the brash noise of a heavy-metal riff. I pushed aside the curtain and let my senses be dazzled.
Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov