You ever have those dreams where you’re someplace familiar, but its all just kind of off? You know, just different enough to be weird?

I was having one of those moments. Wide awake, though.

“Mount Gay and Coke,” I ordered. Looked around. A few years ago, this place nearly burned to the ground. They remodeled, turned it from the old neighborhood dive to someplace respectable. With a wine menu and everything. I dropped by sometimes, but it was never the same. Too many old faces gone, too many new faces coming in. Didn’t have the same smell, you dig?

Eventually, I stopped coming back altogether.

“First time?” the bartender said, sliding me my drink. Rockabilly chick, lots of ink. Not my type, but I’m adaptable.

I took a sip, smiled. “Nah. I used to be a regular, actually.”

“Yeah? What brings you back?”

Shrugged. “Unfinished business, I guess.”

She smirked, saw through my weak attempt at cool. “Well, stick around for a while this time.”

I took another sip. Looked around.

“Yeah. I just might,” I said.