When I’d stopped, taken a breath and bestilled my beating heart (as it were), I took stock of the situation.

Well, let’s see, I thought. You’re in a quiet bar, in the middle of the night, three years in your past, standing here, ranting and raving and cussing and spitting at the woman you loved and you’re causing a scene and everyone’s staring at you and the music in the background has suddenly stopped like how it does in the movies and the woman you loved is staring at you in shock, wondering why the hell you’re shouting these things at her, wondering what she’s done and wondering WHO THE HELL YOU ARE, you stupid fuck!

She slaps me across the face.

She storms out of the bar.

She’s gone.

…

At that moment, I’m waiting for the automatic pull back into my present, like what normally happens.

But nothing happens.

I concentrate.

I focus on wanting to go back to my time.

Nada.

It then dawns on me.

I’m stuck three years in my past.

And I’ve completely obliterated all traces of my present…