I had no idea he’d come straight from the devil’s den and would take me to hell and back before it was all said and done. I don’t generally hang out in bars, but it was a Friday night. I was lonely. The bar was within walking distance of my downtown apartment. I figured it wouldn’t hurt. Boy, was I wrong. The place I went to was one of those eclectic little bars that yuppies hang out in. Harmless enough looking clientele. You know? I scanned the place--right inside the door. I wasn’t in the mood for putting up with creeps. None in sight. I was restless. Almost like a part of me knew something was going to happen. You know the feeling. You can’t put a finger on it, but you know something’s in the air? I sidled up to the bar, ordered a long-necked bottle, no glass. I like to pick at the label when there’s nothing else to do. It took all of about five seconds to get it in hand, swivel and wish I hadn’t bothered. There were no creeps and no possibilities either, as far as I could see. I sipped my beer, did the calculations on how fast I could get it down and make the distance back to my place.
