The Spitting Image

Tales of Everyday Life

Standing on the street corner in front of the Opera, about to cross towards Karlsplatz, the man next to me was making odd sounds in his throat. He hacked and coughed and eventually summoned all his gutteral power and heaved a big wad of spit right at my feet.

I stepped back, a bit shocked and looked at him.

“Are you alright?” I asked. “Was that really necessary?”

“You’ll get over it, princess,” he replied.

I didn’t.

– Anna Eschenbach

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