Mr. Clausius’s Uniformed Distribution

The veterinarian was summoned at, or near, sundown. Rudolf was just thirty-nine years old.

“Heat stroke unverifiable.” “Core temperature @ equalibrium.”

Dr. Tertian was livid. Understandable. His newly acquired oscillator had proven utterly useless.

Mr. Clausius’s wife, Sophie, was frantic. All day. And, beautiful. And, dressed loose and lacy. And, makeup-heavy.

“Oh, doctor! Will he plume again?!”…She later calmed.

“One month later, at the first signs of winter, father was on the mend.” Who would watch after the children? After all, they were adopted. Sophie proved unfit.

WIFE’S WEEKLY SCHEDULE: land, ho!; barmaid’s broom closet — and, repeat.

Rudolf Clausius. Continued recuperation. Self-needlization.

LASTING EFFECTS: this last entry is specifically recorded for historical significance : fifteen more years/trapped; sophie/loveless/traumatized.

postscript — The fair Dr. Tertian, respected among colleagues far and wide, retired in the spring after Mr. Clausius’s passing. He resides in upstate New York with his golden retriever Sophie.

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