You start to stand. The snow outside is heavy, heavy enough that it reflects light back into the bar. Everything's a little orange. You want to get home. Everyone always wants to get home.\n\nThe drunk watches you, and you grab for your bag, but your hand slides through air. The strap you expected to be there is hanging somewhere else, hanging off of the back of the drunk's bar stool. \n\n"What the--"\n\n"Oh, stop," he says, his hand fluttering. "Don't act like I stole it." He smooths his greasy hair away from the edges of his face and grabs the bag. "You can [[leave|liar2]], but you'll be [[back|liar2]]."

\nThe sounds of Albert Hammond fill the almost empty bar. The guy at the counter nods at you again, approving.\n\nYou're beginning to get the hang of this. It feels easier. More natural. The high is still there, but you like it, for now.\n\nYou return to Larry, who watches you with his glassy eyes, and he scribbles something in his notebook like an animal trainer at the zoo. A very drunk one.\n\n"Is it [[time|CAB.2]] for my afternoon enrichment?" you ask, and he snorts.

"That a real bet?" you say.\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\n"Sure," you say. "First round's practice."\n\nThey look at each other and break into grins you take off their faces as you sink the 2 ball in the corner pocket.\n\n"Guess it's a good thing we didn't bet our drinking money," one of the men says, pushing his baseball cap off his head long enough to scratch at greasy hair. \n\n"Yep, or we'd be headed home."\n\n"Thanks for the shot, guys," you tell them, and you move [[back to Larry|backtolarry]].

You return to Larry, who watches you with his glassy eyes, and he scribbles something in his notebook like an animal trainer at the zoo. A very drunk one.\n\n"Is it time for my afternoon enrichment?" you ask, and he snorts.\n\n"Why don't you try to go talk to those guys at the pool table?" he says, gesturing with his chin.\n\n"Because I don't talk to anyone who wears clothing with a camoflage theme?"\n\n"I'm not telling you to go ask them out, sunshine. Just go over there."\n\n"[[Fine|poolB]]."

"And you do?"\n\n"So do you, sugarplum, or you wouldn't be here. That's what got you here in the first place."\n\nIt has the feeling of finding out someone has rummaged around in your pockets for something. There's still something missing from your memory, and you can't go back to it. Your eyes slide right past it every time you try. //Something [[happened|water.2]]//, that much you know.

The bar is quiet, save for the music playing from the jukebox. The bartender wipes down the counters, and the only sound beyond the music is the squeak of the rag. The man sits there, eating his corn nuts. When you get back to your table, Larry watches you with the same careful eyes. \n\n"Would you quit doing that?" you ask him, taking your seat.\n\n"Maybe--" Larry starts to say, but he's [[interrupted|moneyD2.1]] by someone coming in the front door. The snow blows in after him.

"Why don't you try to go talk to those guys at the pool table?" he says, gesturing with his chin.\n\n"Because I don't talk to anyone who wears clothing with a camoflage theme?"\n\n"I'm not telling you to go ask them out, sunshine. Just go over there."\n\n"[[Fine|poolD]]."

You like Fernando, and you leave it. As the guy pushes open the front door, a gust of snow blows in after him. \n\n"Well, I like it," the bartender says.\n\nYou like Fernando too, and you leave it. As the guy pushes open the front door, a gust of snow blows in after him. \n\nYou return to Larry, who watches you with his glassy eyes, and he scribbles something in his notebook like an animal trainer at the zoo. A very drunk one.\n\n"Is it [[time|leavefernando2.1]] for my afternoon enrichment?" you ask, and he snorts.

You brace yourself at the bar and try to think back to earlier that day, to whatever brought you there in the first place. The jukebox spins and catches on something, and the silent hits you. The inside of the bar is as bleak as the outside.\n\n"Why'd I come here today? [[Why'd|final2.2]] I come to find you?" you ask.

"Yeah, I'm just guessing. How the hell am I supposed to know your name?"\n\nHe sniffs. The beer has made his nose run. "Because I told it to you about 90 seconds ago."\n\nAh, there it is. The deja vu you hate but crave. It feels like a false memory, like you saw a photograph of it once and tried to take it on as your own. Like something you remember versus something that happened. \n\nYou sniff, too.\n\n> "You going to [[tell me again|AGAIN]]?"\n> "I'm [[pretty sure you didn't|liar]]."

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO32]].

You return to Larry, who watches you with his glassy eyes, and he scribbles something in his notebook like an animal trainer at the zoo. A very drunk one.\n\n"Why don't you try to go talk to those guys at the pool table?" he says, gesturing with his chin.\n\n"Because I don't talk to anyone who wears clothing with a camoflage theme?"\n\n"I'm not telling you to go ask them out, sunshine. Just go over there."\n\n"[[Fine|poolC]]."

The waitress comes over with a laminated menu you haven't needed in a while, and she says, "Another round?" while eyeing the full glass of beer in front of you.\n\n"Sure, we start them young around here," Larry says.\n\nThe waitress rolls her shoulders in what resembles a shrug, and she says, "What'll it be?"\n\n> "[[Just water, please|water]]."\n> "[[Hefeweizen|hefeweizen]]."\n> "[[The lager|lager]]."

"Hey," one of the guys at the pool table says, and he holds it like he's ready to break it in half.\n\nThe guy at the bar stands, too, gathering his newspaper under his arm.\n\nThe man's eyes dart around, looking for his best approach, but his hand seems too close to the gun. His entire body shakes.\n\n[[Approach|approach4]] him, or [[don't|dont5]]?

The sound of Meatloaf fills up the bar. The guy at the counter nods at you again, approving.\n\nYou're beginning to get the [[hang|paradiseA3]] of this. It feels easier. More natural. The high is still there, but you like it, for now.

The man pushes the door shut behind him, struggling with it for a moment, and then he turns to survey the bar. The gun in his hand makes you as nervous as a gun should.\n\nHe looks at you with wild eyes, eyes that can't be free from some substance. He passes your table on the way to the bar, his hands threatening to shake off of his arms. "You got any money?" he tosses at you, and you break the eye contact.\n\nWhen he reaches the bar, he shoves his gun into the man's back and says, "Help me get this register open."\n\n[[Approach|approach3]] him, or [[don't|dont4]]?

The gunman pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.\n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's [[meaning|REDO19.2]] in it but you can't find it.

There's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players and the other man follow you out. \n\nThe blood [[spreads|final6]] through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and [[pulling you back into the bar|final6]].

Larry watches you and slides a dry tongue over his lips. "So go ahead, get her back here. Just pull that page back a little bit. Focus real hard on those edges."\n\n"Why don't I just call her back and change my order?"\n\nHis grin is haphazard and a little broken. "Because where's the fun in that?"\n\n[[REDO|jump1]].

They look at each other and break into grins you take off their faces as you sink the 2 ball in the corner pocket.\n\n"Guess it's a good thing we didn't bet our drinking money," one of the men says, pushing his baseball cap off his head long enough to scratch at greasy hair. \n\n"Yep, or we'd be headed home."\n\n"Thanks for the shot, guys," you tell them, and you move [[back to Larry|backtolarry4]].

He holds out the bag for you, and you take it. You toss a couple of dollars down on the table to cover for the beer you didn't drink, and you nod to the bartender, but he's not paying any attention to you. \n\n"This is getting pretty tedious," the drunk says to you. "Who knew that the more you didn't drink, the angrier you get?"\n\nYou head for the door, where the cold from outside sneaks in, and you put your hand on the handle, glancing back at the drunk. There was something else you were supposed to be doing. You can't remember what it was.\n\n> [[Leave|back]].\n> [[Stay|back]].

REDO.

"Well, shit," one of the guys said, expanding the expletive into three syllables. \n\n"That was the rest of our drinking money," the second says.\n\n"Sorry about that, boys," you say, reaching for the cash.\n\nOne of them sloshes back the rest of some of his beer and then glances at his friend. "Suppose we ought to go if we're not buying beer any more."\n\n"Suppose so," the second says, watching you.\n\n[[REDO|jump8]] or [[let them leave|moneyA2]]?

His face reaches a sneer, but maybe he means it differently. His skin is shiny from sweat and alcohol. He pulls out his notebook and sets it on top of the bar table and carefully opens it. You see the lines written inside of it, the connect-the-dots that is a series of decisions and undone decisions.\n\nHe pulls out a newspaper clipping. An obituary. A suicide. A brother.\n\n"Why can't I remember this?"\n\nHe shrugs. "Shock? Or maybe you just want to. You never could have undone this."\n\nPolice lights spin outside.\n\n> "Take me [[back|jumpback]]. Before all of this."\n> "What's the [[point|point]]?"

"48," the drunk across from you at the bar table says. He writes something in his notebook. \n\nTime shimmers. It doesn't go anywhere.\n\nEND.

The man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.\n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nThere's silence as everyone exhales, and then there's a [[swerve|REDO26.2]] of lights outside and a [[squeal|REDO26.2]] of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry or anyone else is.

You like your choice, and you leave it there. The sound of it fills up the cold, almost empty bar. The guy at the bar nods at you his approval.\n\nYou return to Larry, who watches you with his glassy eyes, and he scribbles something in his notebook like an animal trainer at the zoo. \n\n"Why don't you try to go talk to those guys at the pool table?" he says, gesturing with his chin.\n\n"Because I don't talk to anyone who wears clothing with a camoflage theme?"\n\n"I'm not telling you to go ask them out, sunshine. Just go over there."\n\n"[[Fine|poolB]]."

You like your choice, and you leave it there. The sound of it fills up the cold, almost empty bar.\n\nYou return to Larry, who watches you with his glassy eyes, and he scribbles something in his notebook like an animal trainer at the zoo. \n\n"Is it time for my afternoon enrichment?" you ask, and he snorts.\n\n"Why don't you try to go talk to those guys at the pool table?" he says, gesturing with his chin.\n\n"Because I don't talk to anyone who wears clothing with a camoflage theme?"\n\n"I'm not telling you to go ask them out, sunshine. Just go over there."\n\n"[[Fine|poolB]]."

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in [[long enough|poolC.1]] that they forgot how it was done.

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they forgot how it was done.\n\nOne of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "Bet you can't make the first shot."\n\n"That a real bet?"\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\n> "Sure. [[Let's put a little money up|moneyB]]."\n> "Sure. [[First round's practice|nomoneyB]]."

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they [[forgot|poolA.1]] how it was done.

"Maybe we should have put //Eye of the Tiger// on and run up stairs instead?"\n\n"Maybe--" Larry starts to say, but he's interrupted by someone coming in the front door. The snow blows in disastrously after him. \n\nThe man pushes the door shut behind him, struggling with it for a moment, and then he turns to survey the bar. The gun in his hand makes you as nervous as a [[gun|moneyA2.6]] should.

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they [[forgot|poolD.1]] how it was done.

"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\nThere's the sound of nervous laughter from everyone inside the bar. It's calm for long enough to seep into your bones.\n\nAnd there's a [[swerve|REDO35.2]] of lights outside and a [[squeal|REDO35.2]] of the breaks, and you're to the door before anyone else is.

There's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players and the other man follow you out. The blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.\n\n[[REDO|jump18]] or [[don't|final6]].

He swears again, this time under his breath, and he grabs for the money and pushes himself back up over the bar. He looks around for cameras that aren't there, and he looks back at you with eyes that might have shown gratitude if he could as he heads back out the bar.\n\nYou exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't [[find|approach3.5]] it.

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nThe two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a [[gun|REDO19.11]] to.

The sound of Meatloaf begins to fill up the nearly empty bar, and the sole guy at the counter glances at you and nods his approval. \n\n[[REDO|jump6]] or [[leave it|leavesong3]]?

The sound of Meatloaf begins to fill up the nearly empty bar, and the sole guy at the counter glances at you and nods his approval. \n\n[[REDO|jump21]] or [[leave it|leavesong2]]?

Larry wipes his mouth. "You can't prevent shit, princess. Things are going to happen. All you can do is undo your own choices, not anyone else's."\n\nYou brace yourself against a street sign and try to think back to [[earlier|final4.2]] that day, to whatever brought you there in the first place. \n\n"Why'd I come here today? Why'd I come to find you?" you ask.

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe backbeat of the high from the time shift feels good. You're starting to enjoy this.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they forgot how it was done.\n\nOne of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "Bet you can't make the first shot."\n\n"That a real bet?"\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\n"Sure," you say. "First round's practice."\n\nThey look at each other and break into grins you take off their faces as you sink the 2 ball in the corner pocket.\n\n"Guess it's a good thing we didn't bet our drinking money," one of the men says, pushing his baseball cap off his head long enough to scratch at greasy hair. \n\n"Yep, or we'd be headed home."\n\n"Thanks for the shot, guys," you tell them, and you move [[back to Larry|backtolarry3]].

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe backbeat of the high from the time shift feels good. You're starting to enjoy this.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they forgot how it was done.\n\nOne of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "Bet you can't make the first shot."\n\n"That a real [[bet|REDO14.1]]?"

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nYou approach the bar, and the man turns to you with his gun still in the man's back. "You know how to work the register?" he says, and there are dark stains on his teeth. "It's fucking freezin' outside, and I need--"\n\nHe drops the words like they've [[slipped|REDO17.1]] right out of his mouth.

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"Open the fucking thing," the man with the gun says to the man with the gun in his back. \n\n"I don't-- I can't--" the man [[struggles|REDO16.1]] to say.

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nYou approach the bar, and the man looks up at you with his haunted and hunted eyes. "You know how to work this thing?" he says, and there are dark stains on his teeth. "It's fucking freezin' outside, and I [[need|REDO11.1]]--"\n

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"You know how to work this thing?" the man shouts at you from behind the bar. "It's fucking freezin' outside, and I need--"\n\nHe slams his fist into the side of the cash register, and it opens. He grabs the bills inside, and he hops back over the counter. You avoid his eyes as he leaves, the snow blowing in over the threshold of the bar.\n\nThere's a squeal of breaks and some shouting from outside, and then the sound of a gunshot overpowers the sound of the jukebox. You're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond is the figure of the man, his hands shaking around the gun he just fired. The driver's side window is blown out of a car. You can't see the victim's face for all the blood.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms [[and pulling you back into the bar|final3]].

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nYou approach the man, your hands up, and you see the two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a gun to.\n\n"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand [[threatens|REDO13.1]] to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there--"

You stay in your seat. No reason to be a hero, right? It slices through you sickly.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says.\n\nThe two men at the pool table behind him are ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a gun to.\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there--"\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, but the decision has been made.\n\nHe hits the ground before you process the gunshot. \n\nThere's a sudden explosion of activity in front of you as the second pool player tackles the shooter, taking him to the ground. You feel Larry's arms around you as he [[pulls you outside|final4]], into the snow.

Once the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players and the other man follow you out. The blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.\n\n[[REDO|jump19]] or [[don't|final6]].

You brace yourself at the bar and try to think back to earlier that day, to whatever brought you there in the first place. The jukebox spins and catches on something, and the silent hits you. The inside of the bar is as bleak as the outside.\n\n"Why'd I come here today? Why'd I come to find you?" you ask.\n\nHis face reaches a sneer, but maybe he means it differently. His skin is shiny from sweat and alcohol. He pulls out his notebook and sets it on top of the bar table and carefully opens it. You see the lines written inside of it, the connect-the-dots that is a series of [[decisions|final6.2]] and [[undone|final6.2]] decisions.

He pulls out a newspaper clipping. An obituary. A suicide. A brother.\n\n"Why can't I remember this?"\n\nHe shrugs. "Shock? Or maybe you just want to. You never could have undone this."\n\nPolice lights spin outside.\n\n> "Take me [[back|jumpback]]. Before all of this."\n> "What's the [[point|point]]?"

"That was the rest of our drinking money," the second says.\n\n"Sorry about that, boys," you say, reaching for the cash.\n\nOne of them sloshes back the rest of some of his beer and then glances at his friend. "Suppose we ought to go if we're not buying beer any more."\n\n"Suppose so," the second says, watching you.\n\n[[REDO|jump23]] or [[let them leave|moneyC2]]?

They look at each other and break into grins you take off their faces as you sink the 2 ball in the corner pocket.\n\n"Guess it's a good thing we didn't bet our drinking money," one of the men says, pushing his baseball cap off his head long enough to scratch at greasy hair. \n\n"Yep, or we'd be headed home."\n\n"Thanks for the shot, guys," you tell them.\n\n[[REDO|jump30]] or [[back to Larry|backtolarry5]]?

"It hasn't happened if I don't write it in here," he says, and he shuts the notebook, tapping his fingers on it. "You'll see. You have to lock it all up somewhere, just to get all the threads right."\n\n"So what are we doing here?"\n\nHe yawns into the back of his hand. "You wanted a solution to a problem. Ready to learn how to do this?"\n\n> "[[I'm ready|ready]]."\n> "Wait, [[what problem|whatproblem]]?"

They look at each other and break into grins you take off their faces as you sink the 2 ball in the corner pocket.\n\n"Guess it's a good thing we didn't bet our drinking money," one of the men says, pushing his baseball cap off his head long enough to scratch at greasy hair. \n\n"Yep, or we'd be headed home."\n\n"Thanks for the shot, guys," you tell them.\n\n[[REDO|jump9]] or [[back to Larry|backtolarry]]?

One of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "Bet you can't make the first shot."\n\n"That a real bet?"\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\n> "Sure. [[Let's put a little money up|moneyC]]."\n> "Sure. [[First round's practice|nomoneyC]]."

They look at each other and break into grins you take off their faces as you sink the 2 ball in the corner pocket.\n\n"Guess it's a good thing we didn't bet our drinking money," one of the men says, pushing his baseball cap off his head long enough to scratch at greasy hair. \n\n"Yep, or we'd be headed home."\n\n"Thanks for the shot, guys," you tell them.\n\n[[REDO|jump24]] or [[back to Larry|backtolarry4]]?

They look at each other and break into grins you take off their faces as you sink the 2 ball in the corner pocket.\n\n"Guess it's a good thing we didn't bet our drinking money," one of the men says, pushing his baseball cap off his head long enough to scratch at greasy hair. \n\n"Yep, or we'd be headed home."\n\n"Thanks for the shot, guys," you tell them.\n\n[[REDO|jump15]] or [[back to Larry|backtolarry3]]?

"Cassandra," the drunk across from you at the bar table says. He shoves another beer at you, one you were pretty sure you already drank. "You still with me?"\n\nThe beer slides to the edge of the bar, hitting a coaster with a beaver on it and something obscene, and you stare down into it. No, it was definitely darker last time.\n\n> "[[What the hell|1]] is going on?"\n> "Did you [[re-order my beer|2]]?"

You sound the way your mother tells you your hair looks nice but why don't you have a boyfriend already. You sound the way cats look when they know their food has been replaced by something way less expensive. You sound like you have no idea.\n\nThe drunk narrows his bloodshot eyes and soaks a coaster in beer condensation. "You're [[just guessing|namewrong2.5]]," he says.

"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. His eyes scan the spaces between you and Larry, the bartender, th eother man. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes. The bartender coughs into his fist and mutters something you can't hear.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a [[squeal|dont9.3]] of the breaks, and you're to the door before anyone else is.

You don't know how long you've been coming to the Front Runner. Months, years. Long enough for you to have that grime underneath your fingernails that people have when they've inhabited a bar long enough that people start to [[worry|intro3]] about them. The fact that it makes you comfortable wouldn't do anything to ease a psychologist. You have the coasters [[memorized|intro3]]. And the jukebox songs, like the Joan Jett that's currently playing. The stale smell in the air is of old beer and self-disregard. It's your kind of a place.

You sound the way your mother tells you your hair looks nice but why don't you have a boyfriend already. You sound the way cats look when they know their food has been replaced by something way less expensive. You sound like you have no idea.\n\nThe drunk narrows his bloodshot eyes and soaks a coaster in beer condensation. "You're [[just guessing|justguessing2]]," he says.\n

"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\n"Jesus Christ," the man says, panting and holding his chest. "Thank you-- for that."\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry or the other man is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man with the gun, crumpled under the front end of a car.\n\n"Cass," Larry says, and he pulls you [[back inside|final6]].

There's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players and the other man follow you out. The blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and [[pulling you back into the bar|final6]].

\n\n\n\n\nGetting [[even easier|REDO29]].

"Don't worry, she'll change her mind," he says to the waitress, who shrugs again and moves off. "We tip well," he says after her, but she's already out of earshot, beyond the sound of Toto from the jukebox.\n\n"So here's the deal," Larry says, leaning back in his chair. "We're interstitial, people like you and me. We [[exist|lager2.5]] in the interstices. That thing you can see in the air, that [[shimmer|lager2.5]], not everyone sees that, but you know that already. It's like the edge of a page. And like the edge of a page, you can tug it back if you need to re-read it. Anyone can [[manipulate it|lager2.5]], because everyone occupies it. It's just that most folks don't know how to."

\n\n\n\n\nGetting [[even easier|REDO8]].

\n"Well, shit," one of the guys said, expanding the expletive into three syllables. \n\n"That was the rest of our drinking money," the second says.\n\n"Sorry about that, boys," you say, reaching for the cash.\n\nOne of them sloshes back the rest of some of his beer and then glances at his friend. "Suppose we ought to go if we're not buying beer any more."\n\n"Suppose so," the second says, watching you.\n\n"Goodnight, boys," you say, and you head [[back to Larry|moneyA2]].

"Why don't you try to go talk to those guys at the pool table?" he says, gesturing with his chin.\n\n"Because I don't talk to anyone who wears clothing with a camoflage theme?"\n\n"I'm not telling you to go ask them out, sunshine. Just go over there."\n\n"[[Fine|poolC]]."

"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a [[dangerous|REDO34.2]] kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.

The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players and the other man follow you out. \n\nThe [[blood|final6]] spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.

"Hey," you say, and you pull some cash out of your pocket and put it on the bar. "Take this, get out of here, find something to eat. Let him be"\n\n"You trying to be a fuckin' hero?" he asks, but he pushes the man away from him. His fingers linger near the money, tapping around it like the long limbs of a spider. \n\nHe swears again, this time under his breath, and he grabs for the money and pushes himself around the other man. He looks around for cameras that aren't there, and he looks back at you with eyes that might have shown gratitude if he could as he heads back out the bar.\n\nYou exhale, but it's a [[heavy|approach3.2]] sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\n"Jesus Christ," the man says, panting and holding his chest. "Thank you-- for that."

\n\n\n\n\nIt doesn't feel like much at first, just the vague fading-away sensation of deja vu that occupies the space inside of your hiccups. \n\nAnd then, [[there it is|REDO1]].

You don't know how long you've been coming to the Front Runner. Months, years. Long enough for you to have that grime underneath your fingernails that people have when they've inhabited a bar long enough that people start to worry about them. The fact that it makes you comfortable wouldn't do anything to ease a psychologist. You have the coasters [[memorized|back2.3]]. And the jukebox songs, like the Blondie that's currently playing. The stale smell in the air is of old beer and self-disregard. It's your kind of a place.

\n\n\n\n\nIt doesn't feel like much at first, just the vague fading-away sensation of deja vu that occupies the space inside of your hiccups. \n\nAnd then, [[there it is|REDO3]].

\n\n\n\n\nIt doesn't feel like much at first, just the vague fading-away sensation of deja vu that occupies the space inside of your hiccups. \n\nAnd then, [[there it is|REDO2]].

\n\n\n\n\nIt's easier the [[second time|REDO21]]. \n

There's something like a hiccup, and it slides across your skin. You trained yourself to notice this kind of a thing, ever since you were a kid and you noticed that concentrating creating a wrinkle in something you couldn't see. Still-- you forget what you were doing. It was probably important. Wasn't it?\n\t\n"Cassandra," the drunk across from you says. He shoves another beer at you, one you were pretty sure you already drank. "You still with me?"\n\nThe beer slides to the edge of the counter, hitting a coaster with a beaver on it and something obscene, and you stare down into it. No, it was definitely darker last time.\n\n> "[[What the hell|1]] is going on?"\n> "Did you [[re-order my beer|2]]?"

\n\n\n\n\nIt's easier the [[second time|REDO7]]. \n

\n\n\n\n\nIt's easier the [[second time|REDO6]]. \n

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nYou approach the man, your hands up, and you see the two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a gun to.\n\n"Hey," you say. "No need to start [[getting|REDO28.1]]--"

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe backbeat of the high from the time shift feels good. You're starting to [[enjoy|REDO29.0]] this.

"Sure," you say, and you go to the jukebox. The entire place is almost empty, except for a couple of people playing pool and the bartender and a guy at the bar. You drop a couple of quarters into the machine and select a song:\n\n> [[Fernando|FernandoB]] by Abba\n> [[Paradise by the Dashboard Lights|ParadiseB]] by Meatloaf\n> [[It Never Rains in Southern California|CaliforniaB]] by Albert Hammond

When the waitress is out of earshot, he watches you and says, "Any nausea? Disorientation?"\n\nYou shake your head. "Just a little bit of a high, honestly."\n\n"Yeah, you'll get that a first few times out of the gate."\n\nLike any drug, you think, but you don't say it. He nods at the jukebox, which has [[changed|hefe5]] to some Prince song you don't much care for. "Why don't you try it with some music?"

Larry watches you and slides a dry tongue over his lips. "So go ahead, get her back here. Just pull that page back a little bit. Focus real hard on those edges."\n\n"Why don't I just call her back and change my order?"\n\nHis grin is haphazard and a little broken. "Because where's the fun in that?"\n\n[[REDO|jump3]].

"And you do?"\n\n"So do you, sugarplum, or you wouldn't be here. That's what got you here in the first place."\n\nIt has the feeling of finding out someone has rummaged around in your pockets for something. There's still something [[missing|hefe3]] from your memory, and you can't go back to it. Your eyes slide right past it every time you try. //Something happened//, that much you know.

Larry wipes his mouth. "You can't prevent shit, princess. Things are going to happen. All you can do is undo your own choices, not anyone else's."\n\nYou brace yourself at the bar and try to think back to earlier that day, to whatever brought you there in the first place. The jukebox spins and catches on something, and the silent hits you. The inside of the bar is as bleak as the outside.\n\n"Why'd I come here today? Why'd I come to [[find|final1.2]] you?" you ask.\n

"Yeah, well," you say. "I like to lower expectations to the point where they're met."\n\n"Yeah, so I've heard."\n\nLarry takes a long slug of his scotch and then pulls a tattered notebook out of his jacket pocket and scribbles something down. He pulls out a business card and slides it across the table back to you, through the pool of beer condensation. "Like I said," he says, "you get [[this|catchingup.6]] back when you get through your first time hoop."

There you are, in front of the jukebox again.\n\nYou drop a couple of quarters into the machine and select a different song:\n\n> [[Fernando|FernandoD]] by Abba\n> [[It Never Rains in Southern California|CaliforniaB2]] by Albert Hammond

It sounds okay coming out of your mouth. It sounds like maybe you didn't make it up, like it's a credit card number you swiped while someone else was paying their tab. \n\nHe narrows his eyes at you and sniffs. The alcohol has made his nose run as much as it has his eyes. He has the glassy look only really committed alcoholics have. Still, there's something sensible behind it. It makes you uncomfortable.\n\n"You remember that, or are you really great at [[guessing|nameright2]]?" he says, his eyes still narrow.

There you are, in front of the jukebox again.\n\nYou drop a couple of quarters into the machine and select a different song:\n\n> [[Paradise by the Dashboard Lights|ParadiseB2]] by Meatloaf\n> [[It Never Rains in Southern California|CaliforniaB2]] by Albert Hammond

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe backbeat of the high from the time shift feels good. You're starting to enjoy this.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they [[forgot|REDO23.1]] how it was done.

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe backbeat of the high from the time shift feels good. You're starting to enjoy this.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they forgot how it was done.\n\nOne of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "Bet you can't make the [[first|REDO24.1]] shot."

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nThe bartender raises his hands in front of the gun, and there's a panic in his face. His cheeks are so pale they remind you of bleach.\n\n"You know how to work the register?" he says to the bartender, and there are dark [[stains|REDO25.1]] on his teeth. "It's fucking freezin' outside, and I need--"

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says.\n\n"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"[[Easy now|REDO26.1]]," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.

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"Why don't you try to go talk to those guys at the pool table?" he says, gesturing with his chin.\n\n"Because I don't talk to anyone who wears clothing with a camoflage theme?"\n\n"I'm not telling you to go ask them out, sunshine. Just go over there."\n\n"[[Fine|poolA]]."

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. \n\nThe bartender raises his hands in front of the gun, and there's a panic in his face. His cheeks are so pale they remind you of bleach.\n\n"You know how to work the register?" he says to the bartender, and there are dark stains on his teeth. "It's fucking freezin' outside, and I need--"\n\nHe [[drops|dont6.1]] the words like they've slipped right out of his mouth.

The bar still seems lively, especially with the Fernando playing from the jukebox, and when you get back to your table, Larry watches you with the same careful eyes. \n\n"Would you quit doing that?" you ask him, taking your seat.\n\n"Maybe--" Larry starts to say, but he's interrupted by someone coming in the front door. The snow [[blows|backtolarry4.1]] in after him.

You're beginning to get the hang of this. It feels easier. More natural. The high is still there, but you like it, for now.\n\nYou return to Larry, who watches you with his glassy eyes, and he scribbles something in his notebook like an animal trainer at the zoo. A very drunk one.\n\n"Is it time for my afternoon enrichment?" you ask, and he snorts.\n\n"Why don't you try to go talk to those guys at the pool table?" he says, gesturing with his chin.\n\n"Because I don't talk to anyone who wears clothing with a camoflage theme?"\n\n"I'm not telling you to go ask them out, sunshine. Just go over there."\n\n"[[Fine|poolA]]."

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe backbeat of the high from the time shift feels good. You're starting to [[enjoy|REDO30.0]] this.

Yeah, there it is, the lean groove in the top of the countertop that is your place. It has the feeling of remembering lines to a song you haven't heard in years. \n\n"Not bad," he says. "It only took you 47 tries." You can't tell if he's kidding. You suspect he's not. He cracks a smile. You're trying to [[remember|catchingup2.5]] something about the gap between his teeth.

The bar still seems lively, especially with the Fernando playing from the jukebox, and when you get back to your table, Larry watches you with the same careful eyes. \n\n"Would you quit doing that?" you ask him, taking your seat.\n\n"Maybe--" Larry starts to say, but he's interrupted by someone coming in the front door. The snow blows in disastrously after him. \n\nThe man pushes the door shut behind him, struggling with it for a moment, and then he turns to survey the bar. The gun in his hand makes you as nervous as a gun should.\n\n"Hey," one of the guys at the pool table says, and he holds it like he's ready to break it in half.\n\nThe man's eyes dart around, looking for his best approach, but his hand seems too close to the gun. His entire body shakes.\n\n[[Approach|approach2]] him, or [[don't|dont3]]?

"Wait, what problem?" you ask, and he narrows his eyes.\n\n"Don't tell me you don't even remember that much."\n\nYou leave the unasked question in the air, where it hangs flaccidly. You grasp for it, but you don't know why it's not right there. You try to remember what you did earlier today, but it's not there, either. You glance out the window. The snow threatens to take over everything. The snowfall is getting dangerous.\n\n"Well, I don't want to do round 48."\n\n"Miles to go, Cass. Miles to go. You ready to start?"\n\n> "[[I'm ready|ready]]."\n> "[[I guess so|guessso]]."

The couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they forgot how it was done.\n\nOne of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "[[Bet|REDO30.1]] you can't make the first shot."

When the waitress is out of earshot, he watches you and says, "Any nausea? Disorientation?"\n\nYou shake your head. "Just a little bit of a high, honestly."\n\n"Yeah, you'll get that a first few times out of the gate."\n\nLike any drug, you think, but you don't say it. He nods at the jukebox, which has changed to some Prince song you don't much care for. "Why don't you try it with some music?"\n\n"Sure," you say, and you go to the jukebox. The entire place is almost empty, except for a couple of people playing pool and a guy at the bar. You drop a couple of quarters into the machine and select a song:\n\n> [[Fernando|FernandoA]] by Abba\n> [[Paradise by the Dashboard Lights|ParadiseA]] by Meatloaf\n> [[It Never Rains in Southern California|CaliforniaA]] by Albert Hammond

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nThe two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a gun to.\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there--"\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man at the bar [[watches|dont5.1]] too, gathering up his coat.

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe backbeat of the high from the time shift feels good. You're starting to enjoy this.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they forgot how it was done.\n\nOne of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "[[Bet|REDO9.1]] you can't make the first [[shot|REDO9.1]]."

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe backbeat of the high from the time shift feels good. You're starting to enjoy this.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they forgot how it was done.\n\nOne of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "[[Bet|REDO8.1]] you can't make the first [[shot|REDO8.1]]."

"And you do?"\n\n"So do you, sugarplum, or you wouldn't be here. That's what got you here in the first place."\n\nIt has the feeling of finding out someone has rummaged around in your pockets for something. There's still something [[missing|lager3.5]] from your memory, and you can't go back to it. Your eyes slide right past it every time you try. //Something happened//, that much you know.

There you are, in front of the jukebox again.\n\nYou drop a couple of quarters into the machine and select a different song:\n\n> [[Paradise by the Dashboard Lights|ParadiseA2]] by Meatloaf\n> [[It Never Rains in Southern California|CaliforniaA2]] by Albert Hammond

The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. \n\nThe blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.\n\n[[REDO|jump32]] or [[don't|final6]].

There you are, in front of the jukebox again.\n\nYou drop a couple of quarters into the machine and select a different song:\n\n> [[Fernando|FernandoC]] by Abba\n> [[Paradise by the Dashboard Lights|ParadiseA2]] by Meatloaf

There you are, in front of the jukebox again.\n\nYou drop a couple of quarters into the machine and select a different song:\n\n> [[Fernando|FernandoC]] by Abba\n> [[It Never Rains in Southern California|CaliforniaA2]] by Albert Hammond

There's a buzz that rolls off your skin from it.\n\nThe waitress comes over with a laminated menu you haven't needed in a while, and she says, "Another round?" while eyeing the full glass of beer in front of you.\n\n"Sure, we start them young around here," Larry says.\n\nThe waitress rolls her shoulders in what resembles a shrug, and she says, "What'll it be?"\n\n> "[[Just water, please|water2]]."\n> "[[Hefeweizen|hefeweizen2]]."

There's a buzz that rolls off your skin from it.\n\nThe waitress comes over with a laminated menu you haven't needed in a while, and she says, "Another round?" while eyeing the full glass of beer in front of you.\n\n"Sure, we start them young around here," Larry says.\n\nThe waitress rolls her shoulders in what resembles a shrug, and she says, "What'll it be?"\n\n> "[[Just water, please|water2]]."\n> "[[The lager|lager2]]."

There's a buzz that rolls off your skin from it.\n\nThe waitress comes over with a laminated menu you haven't needed in a while, and she says, "Another round?" while eyeing the full glass of beer in front of you.\n\n"Sure, we start them young around here," Larry says.\n\nThe waitress rolls her shoulders in what resembles a shrug, and she says, "What'll it be?"\n\n> "[[Hefeweizen|hefeweizen2]]."\n> "[[The lager|lager2]]."

There's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry or the other man is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man with the gun, crumpled under the front end of a car.\n\nThe driver stands over him, her face panicked. "He just-- ran out--"\n\n[[REDO|jump16]] or [[don't|final5]].

The sound of Abba quickly fills up the bar. The sole man at the bar glances around and then shoots you a look that says he has a long history with Abba and none of it good. He gathers up his coat quickly and shoves some money across the bar for the absent bartender, a guttural noise punctuating his exit.\n\n"Well, I like it," the bartender says.\n\nYou like Fernando too, and you leave it. As the guy pushes open the front door, a gust of snow [[blows|FernandoD.1]] in after him.

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nYou approach the man, your hands up, and you see the two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a [[gun|REDO34.1]] to.

The sound of Abba quickly fills up the bar. The sole man at the bar glances around and then shoots you a look that says he has a long history with Abba and none of it good. He gathers up his coat quickly and shoves some money across the bar, a guttural noise punctuating his exit.\n\n"Well, I like it," the bartender says.\n\n[[REDO|jump20]] or [[leave it|leavefernando2]]?

The sound of Abba quickly fills up the bar. The sole man at the bar glances around and then shoots you a look that says he has a long history with Abba and none of it good. He gathers up his coat quickly and shoves some money across the bar for the absent bartender, a guttural noise punctuating his exit.\n\nYou like Fernando, and you leave it. As the guy pushes open the front door, a gust of [[snow|fernandoc2]] blows in after him.

Larry watches you and slides a dry tongue over his lips. "So go ahead, get her back here. Just pull that page back a little bit. Focus real hard on those edges."\n\n"Why don't I just call her back and change my order?"\n\nHis grin is haphazard and a little broken. "Because where's the fun in that?"\n\n[[REDO|jump2]].

The sound of Abba quickly fills up the bar. The sole man at the bar glances around and then shoots you a look that says he has a long history with Abba and none of it good. He gathers up his coat quickly and shoves some money across the bar for the absent bartender, a guttural noise punctuating his exit.\n\n[[REDO|jump4]] or [[leave it|leavefernando]]?

Once the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players follow you out.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms [[and pulling you back into the bar|final3]].

Time shimmers the way the air burns on a too-hot day. You can feel it, though you shouldn't. Someone has written ellipses in the air. \n\t\nThere's something like a hiccup, and it slides across your skin. You trained yourself to notice this kind of a thing, ever since you were a kid and you noticed that concentrating creating a wrinkle in something you couldn't see. Still-- you forget what you were doing. It was probably important. [[Wasn't it|intro4]]?

He raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there--"\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, but the decision has been made.\n\nHe hits the ground before you process the gunshot. There's a sudden explosion of activity in front of you as the second pool player tackles the shooter, taking him to the ground. You feel Larry's arms around you as he pulls you outside, into the snow.\n\n[[REDO|jump13]] or [[don't|final4]].

The waitress comes over with a laminated menu you haven't needed in a while, and she says, "Another round?" while eyeing the full glass of beer in front of you.\n\n"Sure, we start them young around here," Larry says.\n\nThe waitress rolls her shoulders in what resembles a shrug, and she says, "What'll it be?"\n\n> "[[Just water, please|water]]."\n> "[[Hefeweizen|hefeweizen]]."\n> "[[The lager|lager]]."

He narrows his eyes. "Don't tell me you don't even remember that much."\n\nYou leave the unasked question in the air, where it hangs flaccidly. You grasp for it, but you don't know why it's not right there. You try to remember what you did earlier today, but it's not there, either. You glance out the window. The snow threatens to take over everything. The snowfall is getting dangerous.\n\n"You don't remember why you came to find me?"\n\nYou stay silent to that one, too. It's there, around the edges, you know it is. You don't have an answer for him.\n\n"Well, that's a damn shame," he says. "Do you at least remember my name yet?\n\n> "Of course I do, [[Larry|catchingup2]]."\n> [["Steve|back]]?

Larry snorts.\n\n"Don't worry, she'll change her mind," he says to the waitress, who shrugs again and moves off. "We tip well," he says after her, but she's already out of earshot, beyond the sound of Toto from the jukebox.\n\n"So here's the deal," Larry says, leaning back in his chair. "We're [[interstitial|water.1]], people like you and me. We exist in the interstices. That thing you can see in the air, that shimmer, not everyone sees that, but you know that already. It's like the edge of a page. And like the edge of a page, you can tug it back if you need to re-read it. Anyone can manipulate it, because everyone occupies it. It's just that most folks don't know how to."

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO10]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO13]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO12]].

\n\n\n\n\nGetting [[even easier|REDO14]].

\n\n\n\n\nGetting [[even easier|REDO15]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO17]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO16]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO19]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO18]].

"You know how to work this thing?" the man shouts at you from behind the bar. "It's fucking freezin' outside, and I need--"\n\nHe slams his fist into the side of the cash register, and it opens. He grabs the bills inside, and he hops back over the counter. You avoid his eyes as he [[leaves|dont1.6]], the snow blowing in over the threshold of the bar.

"That a real bet?" you ask.\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\nThey look at each other and then both break out into grins that say they think they're about to take whatever you have in your pockets. You pull out a $20 bill and put it under one of their empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans they're drinking from unironically. They both fumble for similar bills, and one of them offers you the pool cue.\n\nYou've always been pretty good at pool, and you sink the two ball in the corner pocket, pretty [[easily|REDO24.2]].

"Why can't I remember this?"\n\nHe shrugs. "Shock? Or maybe you just want to. You never could have undone this."\n\nPolice lights spin outside.\n\n> "Take me [[back|jumpback]]. Before all of this."\n> "What's the [[point|point]]?"

\n\n\n\n\nGetting [[even easier|REDO9]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO11]].

You return to Larry, who watches you with his glassy eyes, and he scribbles something in his notebook like an animal trainer at the zoo. A very drunk one.\n\n"Why don't you try to go talk to those guys at the pool table?" he says, gesturing with his chin.\n\n"Because I don't talk to anyone who wears clothing with a camoflage theme?"\n\n"I'm not telling you to go ask them out, sunshine. Just go over there."\n\n"[[Fine|poolD]]."

He pulls out a newspaper clipping. An obituary. A suicide. A brother.\n\n"Why can't I remember this?"\n\nHe shrugs. "Shock? Or maybe you just want to. You never could have undone this."\n\nSomeone should call the cops. You imagine the sound of a police siren outside.\n\n> "Take me [[back|jumpback]]. Before all of this."\n> "What's the [[point|point]]?"

The sound of Meatloaf fills up the bar. The guy at the counter nods at you again, approving.\n\nYou're beginning to get the hang of this. It feels easier. More natural. The high is still there, but you like it, for [[now|ParadiseB2.1]].

He pulls out a newspaper clipping. An obituary. A suicide. A brother.\n\n"Why can't I remember this?"\n\nHe shrugs. "Shock? Or maybe you just want to. You never could have undone this."\n\nFrom somewhere close enough to be on top of them, a police siren sounds.\n\n> "Take me [[back|jumpback]]. Before all of this."\n> "What's the [[point|point2]]?"

The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man with the gun, crumpled under the front end of a car.\n\nThe driver stands over him, her face panicked. "He just-- ran out--"\n\n"Cass," Larry says, and his arms curl around you to pull you [[back into the bar|final6]].

\nYou brace yourself against a street sign and try to think back to earlier that day, to whatever brought you there in the first place. \n\n"Why'd I come here today? Why'd I come to find you?" you ask.\n\nHis face reaches a sneer, but maybe he means it differently. His skin is shiny from sweat and alcohol. He pulls out his notebook and opens it. The snow dances down onto it and causes blotches in the ink. You see the lines written inside of it, the connect-the-dots that is a series of decisions and [[undone|final5.2]] decisions.

You approach the man, your hands up, and you see the two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a gun to.\n\n"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he [[spits|approach9.2]] at the bartender.\n

\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his [[hands up|REDO28.2]], and the man spins back to you.

The bar still seems lively, especially with the music playing from the jukebox, and when you get back to your table, Larry watches you with the same careful eyes. \n\n"Would you quit doing that?" you ask him, taking your seat.\n\n"Maybe--" Larry starts to say, but he's interrupted by someone coming in the front door. The snow blows in disastrously after him. \n\nThe man pushes the door shut behind him, struggling with it for a moment, and then he turns to survey the bar. The gun in his hand makes you as nervous as a [[gun|backtolarry3.1]] should.

"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players and the other man follow you out. The blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and [[pulling you back into the bar|final6]].

Alice Irvin

"Well, shit," one of the guys said, expanding the expletive into three syllables. \n\n"That was the rest of our drinking money," the second says.\n\n"Sorry about that, boys," you say, reaching for the cash.\n\nOne of them sloshes back the rest of some of his beer and then glances at his friend. "Suppose we ought to go if we're not buying beer any more."\n\n"Suppose so," the second says, watching you.\n\n"Goodnight, boys," you say, and you head [[back to Larry|moneyC2]].

The waitress glances back over her shoulder to the bartender and says, "We good on the lager?"\n\nHe shrugs. "We'll need a new keg soon. I'll go get one." He drops his towel on top of the empty bar and disappears into a back room.\n\n"Anything else?" the waitress asks.\n\n"[[Another|lager2.1]]," Larry says, and he taps on the rim of his glass.

There's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players and the other man follow you out. The blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and [[pulling you back into the bar|final6]].

The bar still seems lively, especially with the music playing from the jukebox, and when you get back to your table, Larry watches you with the same careful eyes. \n\n"Would you quit doing that?" you ask him, taking your seat.\n\n"Maybe--" Larry starts to say, but he's interrupted by someone coming in the front door. The snow [[blows|backtolarry5.1]] in after him.

You like Fernando, and you leave it. As the guy pushes open the front door, a gust of snow blows in after him. \n\nYou return to Larry, who watches you with his glassy eyes, and he scribbles something in his notebook like an animal trainer at the zoo. A very drunk one.\n\n"Is it [[time|leavefernando.1]] for my afternoon enrichment?" you ask, and he snorts.

The lights paint the snow in red and blue. The siren gets closer.\n\n"Oh, I don't know that there is a point." He sniffs and takes a seat at the table again. "Being able to do something and having a reason to do it are two different things."\n\nHe takes a long sip of his scotch. You watch the time shimmer so that he can take another one, undoing and redoing the damage each time.\n\nEND.

The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. \n\nThe [[blood|final6]] spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.

"Yeah, well," you say. "I like to lower expectations to the point where they're met."\n\n"Yeah, so I've heard."\n\nLarry takes a long slug of his scotch and then pulls a tattered notebook out of his jacket pocket and scribbles something down. He pulls out a [[business card|catchingup3.5]] and slides it across the table back to you, through the pool of beer condensation. "Like I said," he says, "you get [[this|catchingup3.5]] back when you get through your first time hoop."

There's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car.\n\n[[REDO|jump10]] or [[don't|final1]].

"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's [[meaning|REDO33.3]] in it but you can't find it.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is.

\nThe sounds of Albert Hammond fill the almost empty bar. The guy at the counter nods at you again, approving.\n\nYou're beginning to get the hang of this. It feels easier. More natural. The high is still there, but you like it, for now.\n\nYou return to Larry, who watches you with his glassy eyes, and he scribbles something in his notebook like an animal trainer at the zoo. A very drunk one.\n\n"Is it [[time|CA22.1]] for my afternoon enrichment?" you ask, and he snorts.

There's snow outside. It's not going to stop any time soon. It lights up the night like neon confetti, giving the illusion that it might just be dusk. It's the calm before the blizzard. Outside, brakes squeal, the precursors to ugly deaths. No matter how many times people drive in the snow, they always [[forget|intro2]].

His face reaches a sneer, but maybe he means it differently. His skin is shiny from sweat and alcohol. He pulls out his notebook and sets it on top of the bar table and carefully opens it. You see the lines written inside of it, the connect-the-dots that is a series of decisions and undone decisions.\n\nHe pulls out a newspaper clipping. An obituary. A suicide. A brother.\n\n"Why can't I remember this?"\n\nHe shrugs. "Shock? Or maybe you just want to. You never could have undone this."\n\nPolice lights spin outside.\n\n> "Take me [[back|jumpback]]. Before all of this."\n> "What's the [[point|point]]?"

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO28]].

"Alright, sunshine," he says, and he pushes a hand back through his greasy hair. "If you say so."\n\n\n\nTime moves.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nYou barely know it's [[happening|back2]].

"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.\n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a [[gunshot|REDO13.2]]. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar.

There's a squeal of breaks and some shouting from outside, and then the sound of a gunshot overpowers the sound of the jukebox. You're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond is the figure of the man, his hands shaking around the gun he just fired. The driver's side window is blown out of a car. You can't see the victim's face for all the blood.\n\n[[REDO|jump11]] or [[don't|final2]].

\n\n\n\n\nGetting [[even easier|REDO24]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO25]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO26]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO27]].

\n\n\n\n\nIt's easier the [[second time|REDO22]]. \n

\n\n\n\n\nIt's easier the [[second time|REDO20]]. \n

"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car.\n\n[[REDO|jump12]] or [[don't|final1]].

\n\n\n\n\nGetting [[even easier|REDO23]].

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nThe bartender raises his hands in front of the gun, and there's a panic in his face. His cheeks are so pale they remind you of [[bleach|approach5.2]].

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nYou approach the man, your hands up, and you see the two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a [[gun|approach4.1]] to.

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nYou approach the man, your hands up, and you see the two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of [[fight|approach6.1]] nobody else has brought a gun to.

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're [[invincible|approach1.5]]."

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nYou approach the bar, and the man turns to you with his gun still in the man's back. "You know how to work the register?" he says, and there are dark stains on his teeth. "It's fucking freezin' outside, and I need--"\n\nHe drops the words like they've [[slipped|approach3.1]] right out of his mouth.

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're [[invincible|approach2.1]]."\n\nYou approach the man, your hands up, and you see the two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a gun to.

One of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "Bet you can't make the first shot."\n\n"That a real bet?"\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\n> "Sure. [[Let's put a little money up|moneyA]]."\n> "Sure. [[First round's practice|nomoneyA]]."

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're [[invincible|approach9.1]]."

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nYou approach the man, your hands up, and you see the two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a gun to.\n\n"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"Hey," you try again.\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. \n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.\n\n[[REDO|jump31]] or [[don't|final6]].

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"Did you re-order my beer? This crap is light enough to be apple juice," you tell him, and he roars with laughter in the way that sounds like a carburetor on its last legs, the way that drunks sometimes laugh.\n\n"Good," he says. "You're getting better at this." He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth with an exaggerated sense of grandeur. "Now tell me what my name is."\n\n> "[[Joe|namewrong1]]?"\n> "[[Larry|nameright]]?"\n> "[[Franklin|namewrong2]]?"

"Try harder next time," he says. He cracks his knuckles and gives you an eyefull that's half-lecherous, and then he gestures for the waitress to come over. "Alright, darlin', let me show you [[how|guessso2]] this is done."

"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there--"\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man [[spins|approach2.2]] back to you.

You stay in your seat. There's no reason to be a hero. The thought of it slides around in your gut.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says.\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry first, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a [[dangerous|REDO35.1]] kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.

"So she's got some humility now," the drunk says, and when he cracks open his smile, the gap between his teeth is wide enough to fit a pumpkin through. "That's taken you long enough."\n\n"You going to tell me what's going on, or are we going to listen to [[Joan Jett|AGAIN2.5]] all night?"\n\n"It's [[Pat Benatar|AGAIN2.5]] now, kiddo," he says.

There's something like a hiccup, and it slides across your skin. You trained yourself to notice this kind of a thing, ever since you were a kid and you noticed that concentrating creating a wrinkle in something you couldn't see. Still-- you [[forget|back2.4]] what you were doing. It was probably [[important|back2.4]]. Wasn't it?\n

"Hey," you say, and you pull some cash out of your pocket and put it on the bar. "Take this, get out of here, find something to eat. Let him be."\n\n"You trying to be a fuckin' hero?" he asks, but he pushes the man away from him. His fingers linger near the money, tapping around it like the long limbs of a spider. \n\nHe swears again, this time under his breath, and he grabs for the money and pushes himself around the other man. He looks around for cameras that aren't there, and he looks back at you with eyes that might have shown gratitude if he could as he heads back out the bar.\n\nYou exhale, but it's a [[heavy|REDO17.2]] sound. Larry meets your eyes.

"Yeah, I'm just guessing. How the hell am I supposed to know your name?"\n\nHe sniffs. The beer has made his nose run. "Because I told it to you about 90 seconds ago."\n\nAh, there it is. The deja vu you hate but crave. It feels like a false memory, like you saw a photograph of it once and tried to take it on as your own. Like something you remember versus something that happened. \n\nYou sniff, too.\n\n> "You going to [[tell me again|AGAIN]]?"\n> "I'm [[pretty sure you didn't|liar]]."

He raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there--"\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man at the bar [[watches too|REDO19.1]], gathering up his coat.

"I remembered it," you say, but you're not convincing yourself.\n\n"Yeah, we'll see about that," he says. He taps his fingers on the top of the counter in a rhythm reserved for drunks. "You going to remember it this time?"\n\n> "[[Of course I am|again2]]."\n> "[[This time|again2]]?"

"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's [[meaning|approach6.3]] in it but you can't find it.

"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man [[spins|approach6.2]] back to you.

The man pushes the door shut behind him, struggling with it for a moment, and then he turns to survey the bar. The gun in his hand makes you as nervous as a gun should.\n\n"Hey," one of the guys at the pool table says, and he holds it like he's ready to break it in half.\n\nThe man's eyes dart around, looking for his best approach, but his hand seems too close to the gun. His entire body shakes.\n\n[[Approach|approach6]] him, or [[don't|dont7]]?

\n\n\n\n\nIt's easier the [[second time|REDO5]]. \n

He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's [[meaning|REDO18.2]] in it but you can't find it.

One of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "Bet you can't make the first shot."\n\n"That a real bet?"\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\n"Sure," you say. "First round's [[practice|REDO23.12]]."

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO34]].

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO33]].

The bar has reached a new quiet, save for the Fernando playing from the jukebox, and when you get back to your table, Larry watches you with the same careful eyes. \n\n"Would you quit doing that?" you ask him, taking your seat.\n\n"The point is to try the time shifting in a [[controlled|moneyA2.5]] environment," he says with a beleaguered sigh.\n\n"Sorry I'm messing up your experiment."\n\n"Not my experiment. Your training."

\n\n\n\n\nGetting [[even easier|REDO30]].

The pool table has seen better days, but so has everything at the Front Runner. Its deterioration is part of its charm, though you do tend to feel like it's a walking dose of tetanus.\n\nThe backbeat of the high from the time shift feels good. You're starting to enjoy this.\n\nThe couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they forgot how it was done.\n\nOne of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "Bet you can't make the [[first|REDO23.2]] shot."

\n\n\n\n\nTime feels too heavy now, like the pages are stuck together. You try and try and then it--\n\n\n\t\t\t\t\t-- [[goes|REDO35]].

They look at each other and then both break out into grins that say they think they're about to take whatever you have in your pockets. You pull out a $20 bill and put it under one of their empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans they're drinking from unironically. They both fumble for similar bills, and one of them offers you the pool cue.\n\nYou've always been pretty good at pool, and you sink the two ball in the corner pocket, pretty easily. \n\n"Well, shit," one of the guys said, expanding the expletive into three syllables. \n\n"That was the rest of our drinking money," the second says.\n\n"Sorry about that, boys," you say, reaching for the cash.\n\nOne of them sloshes back the rest of some of his beer and then glances at his friend. "Suppose we ought to go if we're not buying beer any more."\n\n"Suppose so," the second says, watching you.\n\n[[REDO|jump14]] or [[let them leave|moneyB2]]?

They look at each other and then both break out into grins that say they think they're about to take whatever you have in your pockets. You pull out a $20 bill and put it under one of their empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans they're drinking from unironically. They both fumble for similar bills, and one of them offers you the pool cue.\n\nYou've always been pretty good at pool, and you sink the two ball in the corner pocket, pretty easily. \n\n"Well, [[shit|moneyC.1]]," one of the guys said, expanding the expletive into three syllables.

They look at each other and then both break out into grins that say they think they're about to take whatever you have in your pockets. You pull out a $20 bill and put it under one of their empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans they're drinking from unironically. They both fumble for similar bills, and one of them offers you the pool cue.\n\nYou've always been pretty good at pool, and you sink the two ball in the [[corner pocket|moneyA.5]], pretty easily.

The gunshot is the next thing you process, but maybe it's not the next thing that happens. The bartender's face drops, losing its last bit of color, and then his body falls to the ground, too.\n\n"Shit-shit-shit," the gunman says, and he drops the gun like the gun pulled its own trigger. He looks at you with panicked eyes and then scampers out of the bar, muttering expletives under his breath.\n\n[[REDO|jump27]] or [[don't|final5]].

They look at each other and then both break out into grins that say they think they're about to take whatever you have in your pockets. You pull out a $20 bill and put it under one of their empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans they're drinking from unironically. They both fumble for similar bills, and one of them offers you the pool cue.\n\nYou've always been pretty good at pool, and you sink the two ball in the corner pocket, pretty [[easily|moneyD.1]].

The gunshot is muffled by the layers of clothing in between the man and the barrel of the gun, but only just. It's the loudest sound you've ever heard. The man sinks to the ground, the red spreading between his shoulder blades like wings.\n\nThe shooter looks around, panicked, and then runs, pushing out through the snow and wind.\n\n"Cass," Larry says, and he grabs your arms and leads you out [[into the snow|final5]].

There's the sound of nervous laughter from everyone inside the bar. It's calm for long enough to seep into your bones.\n\nAnd there's a swerve of lights outside and a [[squeal|dont10.3]] of the breaks, and you're to the door before anyone else is.

The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players and the other man follow you out. \n\nThe blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.\n\n[[REDO|jump33]] or [[don't|final6]].

The sound of Albert Hammond begins to fill up the nearly empty bar, and the sole guy at the counter glances at you and nods his approval. \n\n[[REDO|jump7]] or [[leave it|leavesong3]]?

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says.\n\n"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the [[pool cue|dont7.1]].

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"Open the fucking thing," the man with the gun says to the man with the gun in his back. \n\n"I don't-- I can't--" the man [[struggles|dont4.1]] to say.

The sound of Albert Hammond begins to fill up the nearly empty bar, and the sole guy at the counter glances at you and nods his approval. \n\n[[REDO|jump5]] or [[leave it|leavesong2]]?

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. You don't know where it comes from.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. \n\nThe two men are at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of [[fight|dont3.1]] nobody else has brought a gun to.

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of [[blood|dont1.5]] on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. You don't know where it comes from.

He looks at you with wild eyes, eyes that can't be free from some substance. He passes your table on the way to the bar, his hands threatening to shake off of his arms. "You got any money?" he tosses at you, and you break the eye contact.\n\nWhen he reaches the empty bar, he pushes himself over the countertop to the cash register, fumbling with it.\n\n[[Approach|approach1]] him, or [[don't|dont1]]?

The man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.\n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you [[exhale|dont10.2]], but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.

"A hefeweizen," you say, and Larry nods like he's given his approval.\n\n"Don't worry, she'll change her mind," he says to the waitress, who shrugs again and moves off. "We tip well," he says after her, but she's already out of earshot, beyond the sound of Toto from the jukebox.\n\n"So here's the deal," Larry says, leaning back in his chair. "We're interstitial, people like you and me. We exist in the interstices. That thing you can see in the air, that shimmer, not everyone sees that, but you know that already. It's like the [[edge|hefe2]] of a page. And like the edge of a page, you can tug it back if you need to re-read it. Anyone can manipulate it, because everyone [[occupies|hefe2]] it. It's just that most folks don't know how to."

"Well, shit," one of the guys said, expanding the expletive into three syllables. \n\n"That was the rest of our drinking money," the second says.\n\n"Sorry about that, boys," you say, reaching for the cash.\n\nOne of them sloshes back the rest of some of his beer and then glances at his friend. "Suppose we ought to go if we're not buying beer any more."\n\n"Suppose so," the second says, watching you.\n\n"Goodnight, boys," you say, and you head [[back to Larry|moneyD2]].

\n"That a real bet?"\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\nThey look at each other and then both break out into grins that say they think they're about to take whatever you have in your pockets. You pull out a $20 bill and put it under one of their empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans they're drinking from unironically. They both fumble for similar bills, and one of them offers you the pool cue.\n\nYou've always been pretty good at pool, and you sink the two ball in the corner pocket, pretty [[easily|REDO30.2]].

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"Well, this has [[escalated|dont9.1]] quickly," Larry says.

You stay in your seat. No need to be a hero, right? The nausea slides into you, and you remember the spill of blood on the new snow. But only just. It threatens to run away from you. \n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says.\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"Hey," the man seated at the bar says. "No need to--"\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. \n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. His eyes scan the spaces between you and Larry, the bartender, th eother man. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes. The bartender coughs into his fist and mutters something you can't hear.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before anyone else is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and [[pulling you back into the bar|final6]].

You brace yourself at the bar and try to think back to earlier that day, to whatever brought you there in the first place. The jukebox spins and catches on something, and the silent hits you. The inside of the bar is as bleak as the outside.\n\n"Why'd I come here today? Why'd I come to find you?" you ask.\n\nHis face reaches a sneer, but maybe he means it differently. His skin is shiny from sweat and alcohol. He pulls out his notebook and sets it on top of the bar table and carefully opens it. You see the lines written inside of it, the connect-the-dots that is a series of [[decisions|final3.2]] and undone decisions.

The bar has reached a new quiet, save for the music playing from the jukebox. The guy still sits at the bar, eating corn nuts and nursing the same beer, and when you get back to your table, Larry watches you with the same careful eyes. \n\n"Would you quit doing that?" you ask him, taking your seat.\n\n"The point is to try the time shifting in a controlled environment," he says with a beleaguered sigh.\n\n"Sorry I'm messing up your experiment."\n\n"Not my experiment. Your training."\n\n"Maybe we should have put //Eye of the Tiger// on and run up stairs instead?"\n\n"Maybe--" Larry starts to say, but he's interrupted by someone coming in the front door. The snow blows in [[disastrously|moneyB2.1]] after him.

When the waitress is out of earshot, he watches you and says, "Any nausea? Disorientation?"\n\nYou shake your head. "Just a little bit of a high, honestly."\n\n"Yeah, you'll get that a first few times out of the gate."\n\nLike any drug, you think, but you don't say it. He nods at the jukebox, which has [[changed|water4]] to some Prince song you don't much care for. "Why don't you try it with some music?"

Larry snorts. "Don't worry, we tip well," he tells the waitress.\n\nShe shrugs and says, "[[Blizzard|water3]] outside, not like we're getting business anyway."\n\n"Anything else?" the waitress asks.\n\n"[[Another|water3]]," Larry says, and he taps on the rim of his glass.

"Sure," you say, and you go to the jukebox. The entire place is almost empty, except for a couple of people playing pool and the bartender and a guy at the bar. You drop a couple of quarters into the machine and select a song:\n\n> [[Fernando|FernandoB]] by Abba\n> [[Paradise by the Dashboard Lights|ParadiseB]] by Meatloaf\n> [[It Never Rains in Southern California|CaliforniaB]] by Albert Hammond

He pulls you back in to the bar, and he shuts the door behind you. Your body shakes, and you reach for time but it's beyond your touch, just like your [[memory|final6.1]].\n\n"We should have been able to prevent that," you say, and it comes out like a gasp, like a final prayer.\n\nLarry wipes his mouth. "You can't prevent shit, princess. Things are going to happen. All you can do is undo your own choices, not anyone else's."

It's a plain white card, the word REDO and a day and time written in ballpoint on it. That much you remember. You slide it into the pocket of your jeans. It occurs to you that that's where it came from.\n\n> "[[How long have we been here|howlong]]?"\n> "[[What's the notebook for|notebook]]?"

"Well, shit," one of the guys said, expanding the expletive into three syllables. \n\n"That was the rest of our drinking money," the second says.\n\n"Sorry about that, boys," you say, reaching for the cash.\n\nOne of them sloshes back the rest of some of his beer and then glances at his friend. "Suppose we ought to go if we're not buying beer any more."\n\n"Suppose so," the second says, watching you.\n\n[[REDO|jump29]] or [[let them leave|moneyD2]]?

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're [[invincible|REDO33.1]]."\n\nYou approach the man, your hands up, and you see the two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a [[gun|REDO33.1]] to.

He swears again, this time under his breath, and he grabs for the money. He looks around for cameras that aren't there, and he looks back at you with eyes that might have shown gratitude if he could as he heads back out the bar.\n\nYou exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\n"Holy shit," the bartender says, some pink slipping back into his cheeks.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a [[squeal|REDO27.3]] of the [[breaks|REDO27.3]], and you're to the door before Larry or the other man is.

"You know how to work the register?" he says to the bartender, and there are dark stains on his teeth. "It's fucking freezin' outside, and I need--"\n\nHe drops the words like they've slipped right out of his mouth. \n\n"Hey," you say, and he spins wildly towards you. You pull some cash out of your pocket and put it on the bar. "Take this, get out of here, find something to eat. He just works here, let him be."\n\n"You trying to be a fuckin' [[hero|REDO27.2]]?" he asks, but he lowers the gun. His fingers linger near the money, tapping around it like the long limbs of a spider.

There you are, in front of the jukebox again.\n\nYou drop a couple of quarters into the machine and select a different song:\n\n> [[Fernando|FernandoD]] by Abba\n> [[Paradise by the Dashboard Lights|ParadiseB2]] by Albert Hammond

"I almost believe that," he says. He cracks his knuckles and gives you an eyefull that's half-lecherous, and then he gestures for the waitress to come over. "Alright, darlin', let me show you [[how|ready2]] this is done."

Your body shakes, and you reach for time but it's beyond your touch, just like your memory.\n\n"We should have been able to prevent that," you say, and it comes out like a gasp, like a final prayer.\n\nLarry wipes his mouth. "You can't prevent shit, princess. Things are going to happen. All you can do is [[undo|final7.1]] your own choices, not anyone else's."

The snow is heavy enough that you don't process the cold, but you watch the windows of the bar. Your body shakes, and you reach for time but it's beyond your touch, just like your memory.\n\n"We should have been able to [[prevent|final4.1]] that," you say, and it comes out like a gasp, like a final prayer.

The snow is heavy enough that you don't process the cold, but you watch the windows of the bar. Your body shakes, and you reach for time but it's beyond your touch, just like your memory.\n\n"We should have been able to prevent that," you say, and it comes out like a gasp, like a final prayer.\n\nLarry wipes his mouth. "You can't prevent shit, princess. Things are going to happen. All you can do is [[undo|final5.1]] your own choices, not anyone else's."

He pulls you back in to the bar, and he shuts the door behind you. Your body shakes, and you reach for time but it's beyond your touch, just like your memory.\n\n"We should have been able to prevent that," you say, and it comes out like a gasp, like a final prayer.\n\nLarry wipes his mouth. "You can't prevent shit, princess. Things are going to happen. All you can do is [[undo|final2.1]] your own choices, not anyone else's."\n\n

He pulls you back in to the bar, and he shuts the door behind you. Your body shakes, and you reach for time but it's beyond your touch, just like your memory.\n\n"We should have been able to prevent that," you say, and it comes out like a gasp, like a final prayer.\n\nLarry wipes his mouth. "You can't prevent shit, princess. Things are going to happen. All you can do is undo your [[own|final3.1]] choices, not anyone else's."

He pulls you back in to the bar, and he shuts the door behind you. Your body shakes, and you reach for time but it's [[beyond|final1.1]] your touch, just like your memory.\n\n"We should have been able to prevent that," you say, and it comes out like a gasp, like a final prayer.\n

"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\nThey look at each other and then both break out into grins that say they think they're about to take whatever you have in your pockets. You pull out a $20 bill and put it under one of their empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans they're drinking from unironically. They both fumble for similar bills, and one of them offers you the pool cue.\n\nYou've always been pretty good at pool, and you sink the two ball in the [[corner|REDO14.2]] pocket, pretty easily.

The man pushes the door shut behind him, struggling with it for a moment, and then he turns to survey the bar. The gun in his hand makes you as nervous as a gun should.\n\nHe looks at you with wild eyes, eyes that can't be free from some substance. He passes your table on the way to the bar, his hands threatening to shake off of his arms. "You got any money?" he tosses at you, and you break the eye contact.\n\nWhen he reaches the bar, he pulls the gun on the bartender. "Open it up," he says.\n\n[[Approach|approach8]] him, or [[don't|dont9]]?

"Well, shit," one of the guys said, expanding the expletive into three syllables. \n\n"That was the rest of our drinking money," the second says.\n\n"Sorry about that, boys," you say, reaching for the cash.\n\nOne of them sloshes back the rest of some of his beer and then glances at his friend. "Suppose we ought to go if we're not buying beer any more."\n\n"Suppose so," the second says, watching you.\n\n"Goodnight, boys," you say, and you head [[back to Larry|moneyB2]].

He raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"Hey," the man seated at the bar says. "No need to--"\n\nThe man pivots like a [[dangerous|dont9.2]] kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm.

He glances up to a clock that isn't going to tell him the answer to that. He consults his notebook, bursting with documents and newspaper clippings. He looks possessive of it, protective. He takes another long slug of his scotch and watches you with eyes too sharp for someone with a liver pickled like his. You don't know how you know that.\n\n"About two [[hours|howlong.1]]," he says. "And about [[five minutes|howlong.1]]. Take your pick."

"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"Hey," you try again.\n\nThe man pivots like a [[dangerous|REDO33.2]] kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm.

It's a plain white card, the word REDO and a day and time written in ballpoint on it. That much you remember. You slide it into the pocket of your jeans. It occurs to you that that's where it came from.\n\n> "[[How long have we been here|howlong]]?"\n> "[[What's the notebook for|notebook]]?"

"That a real bet?"\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\nThey look at each other and then both break out into grins that say they think they're about to take whatever you have in your pockets. You pull out a $20 bill and put it under one of their empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans they're drinking from unironically. They both fumble for similar bills, and one of them offers you the pool cue.\n\nYou've always been pretty good at pool, and you [[sink|REDO9.2]] the two ball in the corner pocket, pretty easily.

One of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "Bet you can't make the first shot."\n\n"That a real bet?"\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\n> "Sure. [[Let's put a little money up|moneyD]]."\n> "Sure. [[First round's practice|nomoneyD]]."

He laughs at you in the way that sounds like a horse dying, the way drunks sometimes do.\n\n"You might recognize it," he says, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth with exaggerated grandeur. "But you have to learn how to channel it."\n\n"Like the Force?"\n\n"Midichlorians my ass," he says, and he adjusts himself on the barstool. "Try to remember what my name is."\n\n> "[[Joe|namewrong1]]?"\n> "[[Larry|nameright]]?"\n> "[[Franklin|namewrong2]]?"

There's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players and the other man follow you out. The blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.\n\n[[REDO|jump26]] or [[don't|final6]].

The lights of the police car turn the corner before the car itself does. They paint the snow in red and blue. The siren gets closer.\n\n"Oh, I don't know that there is a point." He sniffs and opens the door to the bar and leads you back inside. "Being able to do something and having a reason to do it are two different things."\n\nHe goes for his whiskey first, stepping around the pool of blood on the ground. You watch the time shimmer so that he can take another one, undoing and redoing the damage each time.\n\nEND.

He swears again, this time under his breath, and he grabs for the money and pushes himself back up over the bar. He looks around for cameras that aren't there, and he looks back at you with eyes that might have shown gratitude if he could as he heads back out the bar.\n\nYou exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms [[and pulling you back into the bar|final3]].

"Maybe we should have put //Eye of the Tiger// on and run up stairs instead?"\n\n"Maybe--" Larry starts to say, but he's interrupted by someone coming in the front door. The snow blows in after him. \n\nThe man pushes the door shut behind him, struggling with it for a moment, and then he turns to survey the bar. The gun in his hand makes you as nervous as a [[gun|moneyC2.2]] should.

"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there--"\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.\n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to [[leave|approach4.2]] the bar.

He drops the words like they've slipped right out of his mouth. \n\n"Hey," you say, and you pull some cash out of your pocket and put it on the bar. "Take this, get out of here, find something to eat."\n\n"You trying to be a fuckin' [[hero|REDO11.2]]?" he asks, but his finger linger near the money, tapping around it like the long limbs of a spider.

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has [[escalated|REDO27.1]] quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nThe bartender raises his hands in front of the gun, and there's a [[panic|REDO27.1]] in his face. His cheeks are so pale they remind you of bleach.

He looks at you with wild eyes, eyes that can't be free from some substance. He passes your table on the way to the bar, his hands threatening to shake off of his arms. "You got any money?" he tosses at you, and you break the eye contact.\n\nWhen he reaches the bar, he pulls the gun on the bartender. "Open it up," he says.\n\n[[Approach|approach5]] him, or [[don't|dont6]]?

The bar is quiet, save for the Fernando playing from the jukebox. The bartender wipes down the counters, and the only sound beyond the music is the squeak of the rag. When you get back to your table, Larry watches you with the same careful eyes. \n\n"Would you quit doing that?" you ask him, taking your seat.\n\n"The point is to try the time shifting in a controlled environment," he says with a beleaguered sigh.\n\n"Sorry I'm messing up your experiment."\n\n"Not my [[experiment|moneyC2.1]]. Your [[training|moneyC2.1]]."

You stop and listen. It feels like a hangnail caught on a wool sweater, pulling away at something. Why'd you think it was Joan Jett?\n\n"Whoever," you say, trying to shake it off. "Just tell me your name."\n\nHe laughs a little and watches you with those bloodshot eyes. "Larry," he says. He taps his fingers on the top of the counter in a rhythm reserved for drunks. "You going to remember it this time?"\n\n> "[[Of course I am|again2]]."\n> "[[This time|again2]]?"

He drops the words like they've slipped right out of his mouth. \n\nThe gunshot is the next thing you process, but maybe it's not the next thing that happens. The bartender's face drops, losing its last bit of color, and then his body falls to the ground, too.\n\n"Shit-shit-shit," the gunman says, and he drops the gun like the gun pulled its own trigger. He looks at you with panicked eyes and then scampers out of the bar, muttering expletives under his breath.\n\n"Cass," Larry says, and he grabs your arm and [[keeps you inside the bar|final7]].

He swears again, this time under his breath, and he grabs for the money. He looks around for cameras that aren't there, and he looks back at you with eyes that might have shown gratitude if he could as he heads back out the bar.\n\nYou exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\n"Holy shit," the bartender says, some pink slipping back into his cheeks.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry or the other man is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man with the gun, crumpled under the front end of a car.\n\nThe driver stands over him, her face panicked. "He just-- ran out--"\n\n[[REDO|jump25]] or [[don't|final5]].

"You know how to work the register?" he says to the bartender, and there are dark stains on his teeth. "It's fucking freezin' outside, and I need--"\n\nHe drops the words like they've slipped right out of his mouth. \n\n"Hey," you say, and he spins wildly towards you. You pull some cash out of your pocket and put it on the bar. "Take this, get out of here, find something to eat. He just works here, let him be."\n\n"You trying to be a fuckin' [[hero|approach5.1]]?" he asks, but he lowers the gun. His fingers linger near the money, tapping around it like the long limbs of a spider.

The man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.\n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nThere's silence as everyone exhales, and then there's a swerve of lights outside and a squeal of the breaks, and you're to the door before Larry or anyone else is. The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.\n\n[[REDO|jump28]] or [[don't|final6]].

You brace yourself at the bar and try to think back to earlier that day, to whatever brought you there in the first place. The jukebox spins and catches on something, and the silent hits you. The inside of the bar is as bleak as the outside.\n\n"Why'd I come here today? Why'd I come to find you?" you ask.\n\nHis face reaches a sneer, but maybe he means it differently. His skin is shiny from sweat and alcohol. He pulls out his notebook and sets it on top of the bar table and carefully opens it. You see the lines written inside of it, the connect-the-dots that is a series of [[decisions|final7.2]] and undone decisions.

The gunshot is muffled by the layers of clothing in between the man and the barrel of the gun, but only just. It's the loudest sound you've ever heard. The man sinks to the ground, the red spreading between his shoulder blades like wings.\n\nThe shooter looks around, panicked, and then runs, pushing out through the snow and wind.\n\n"Cass," Larry says, grabbing for your arms to lead you outside.\n\n[[REDO|jump17]] or [[don't|final5]].

The man pushes the door shut behind him, struggling with it for a moment, and then he turns to survey the bar. The gun in his hand makes you as nervous as a gun should.\n\n"Hey," one of the guys at the pool table says, and he holds it like he's ready to break it in half.\n\nThe man's eyes dart around, looking for his best approach, but his hand seems too close to the gun. His entire body shakes.\n\n[[Approach|approach9]] him, or [[don't|dont10]]?

"That a real bet?" you say.\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\n"Sure," you say. "First round's [[practice|REDO23.22]]."

"I don't know that being enigmatic suits you."\n\n"Such sass for such a pretty girl. I wasn't being enigmatic. I was answering the question."\n\n"So what are we doing here?"\n\nHe yawns into the back of his hand. "You wanted a solution to a problem. Ready to learn how to do this?"\n\n> "[[I'm ready|ready]]."\n> "Wait, [[what problem|whatproblem]]?"

The thing bursts with documents and newspaper clippings, some of them yellowed at the edges. He looks possessive of it, protective. He takes another long slug of his scotch and watches you with eyes too sharp for someone with a liver pickled like his. You don't know [[how|notebook2]] you know that.

Yeah, there it is, the lean groove in the top of the countertop that is your place. It has the feeling of remembering lines to a song you haven't heard in years. \n\n"Not bad," he says. "It only took you 47 tries." You can't tell if he's kidding. You suspect he's not. He cracks a smile. You're trying to [[remember|catchingup.5]] something about the gap between his teeth.

The couple of guys playing pool are dressed like they came in from a day of hunting, though they didn't, and a couple of empty glasses surround the edges of the pool table. The sound of Fernando keeps you company.\n\n"Little hard to play with everything blocking your shot, huh?" you ask them, and they both look up at you, surprised. You get the sense that they haven't had a woman talk to them in long enough that they forgot how it was done.\n\nOne of the men tips his camo-themed baseball hat at you and says, "Bet you [[can't|REDO29.1]] make the first shot."

There's something like a hiccup, and it slides across your skin. You trained yourself to notice this kind of a thing, ever since you were a kid and you noticed that concentrating creating a wrinkle in something you couldn't see. Still-- you forget what you were doing. It was probably important. Wasn't it?\n\t\n"Cassandra," the drunk across from you says. He grabs for the beer in front of you, slides it away. "You still with me?"\n\n> "Larry. [[Stop it|catchingup]]."\n> "[[What the hell|again3]] is going on?"\n

He looks worn around the edges from the question. \n\n"You have to learn to recognize it," he says, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth with exaggerated grandeur. "Before you can channel it."\n\n"Like the [[Force|again4]]?" you say, and you laugh at your own joke. Someone has to.

The waitress glances back over her shoulder to the bartender and says, "We good on the hefe?"\n\n"Yeah, the hefeweizen's fine, it's the lager we're going to need a new keg on soon," he shoots back.\n\n"Anything else?" the waitress asks.\n\n"[[Another|hefe4]]," Larry says, and he taps on the rim of his glass.

You stay in your seat. There's no reason to be a hero. The thought of it slides around in your gut.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says.\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry first, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there-- You, open the register--" he spits at the bartender.\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the [[pool cue|dont10.1]].

"It's not like the Force," he says, and it has a backbeat of sudden anger you aren't sure you've earned. "Would you quit //asking// that? That's a stupid fucking--"\n\nHe stops and collects himself. "Remember that you came to me, Princess," he says, and he taps the side of his nose with his index finger. "You have a [[problem|whatproblem]], you want a solution to it."

You approach the bar, and the man looks up at you with his haunted and hunted eyes. "You know how to work this thing?" he says, and there are dark stains on his teeth. "It's fucking freezin' outside, and I need--"\n\nHe drops the words like they've slipped right out of his mouth. \n\n"Hey," you say, and you pull some cash out of your pocket and put it on the bar. "Take this, get out of here, find something to eat."\n\n"You trying to be a fuckin' [[hero|approach2.5]]?" he asks, but his finger linger near the money, tapping around it like the long limbs of a spider.

The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. \n\nThe blood [[spreads|final6]] through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.

There's snow outside. It's not going to stop any time soon. It lights up the night like neon confetti, giving the illusion that it might just be dusk. It's the calm before the blizzard. Outside, brakes squeal, the precursors to ugly deaths. No matter how many times people drive in the snow, they always [[forget|back2.1]].

The gunman pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.\n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nEveryone exhales. It feels like a [[heartbeat|dont5.2]].

"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to leave the bar. \n\nOnce the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's [[meaning|REDO34.3]] in it but you can't find it.

They look at each other and break into grins you take off their faces as you sink the 2 ball in the corner pocket.\n\n"Guess it's a good thing we didn't bet our drinking money," one of the men says, pushing his baseball cap off his head long enough to scratch at greasy hair. \n\n"Yep, or we'd be headed home."\n\n"Thanks for the shot, guys," you tell them, and you move [[back to Larry|backtolarry4]].

"Why don't you try to go talk to those guys at the pool table?" he says, gesturing with his chin.\n\n"Because I don't talk to anyone who wears clothing with a camoflage theme?"\n\n"I'm not telling you to go ask them out, sunshine. Just go over there."\n\n"[[Fine|poolB]]."

"That a real bet?" you ask.\n\n"It's a real bet."\n\nThe other guy pets his pool cue. If he means it to be lewd, he's succeeding. \n\n"Sure," you say. "First round's practice."\n\nThey look at each other and break into grins you take off their faces as you sink the 2 ball in the corner pocket.\n\n"Guess it's a good thing we didn't bet our drinking money," one of the men says, pushing his baseball cap off his head long enough to scratch at greasy hair. \n\n"Yep, or we'd be headed home."\n\n"Thanks for the shot, guys," you tell them, and you move [[back to Larry|backtolarry5]].

His face reaches a sneer, but maybe he means it differently. His skin is shiny from sweat and alcohol. He pulls out his notebook and opens it. The snow dances down onto it and causes blotches in the ink. You see the lines written inside of it, the connect-the-dots that is a series of decisions and undone decisions.\n\nHe pulls out a newspaper clipping. An obituary. A suicide. A brother.\n\n"Why can't I remember this?"\n\nHe shrugs. "Shock? Or maybe you just want to. You never could have undone this."\n\nFrom somewhere close enough to be on top of them, a police siren sounds.\n\n> "Take me [[back|jumpback]]. Before all of this."\n> "What's the [[point|point2]]?"

"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.\n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a gunshot. He slides the gun into his belt and curses again under his breath before turning to [[leave|approach9.3]] the bar.

Once the door closes behind him, you exhale, but it's a heavy sound. Larry meets your eyes.\n\n"Pretty proud of yourself, huh?" he says, and there's meaning in it but you can't find it.\n\nThere's a swerve of lights outside and then a squeal of the [[breaks|approach9.4]], and you're to the door before Larry is.

The blast of cold hits you, and just beyond it is the body of the man, crumpled under the front end of a car. The two pool players and the other man follow you out. \n\nThe blood spreads through the new snow.\n\n"Cass," Larry says from behind you, grabbing your arms and pulling you back into the bar.\n\n[[REDO|jump34]] or [[don't|final6]].

You stand, though your nerves threaten to get the better of you. There's something about the situation that says you have to do something. Diffusion of responsibliity-- or something else.\n\n"Well, this has escalated quickly," Larry says after you. "Just because you're able to pull a trick or two doesn't mean you're invincible."\n\nYou approach the man, your hands up, and you see the two men at the pool table behind him, ready for a kind of fight nobody else has brought a gun to.\n\n"Hey," you say. "No need to start getting--"\n\nHe raises the gun at you and Larry, and his hand threatens to shake right off of his arm. "You got any money? It's fuckin' freezing out there--"\n\n"Easy now," one of the two pool players says, approaching with the pool cue.\n\nThe man pivots like a dangerous kid's spinning top, his gun still at the end of his arm. The pool player puts his hands up, and the man spins back to you.\n\n"Fuck," he says, and it's as terse as a [[gunshot|REDO18.1]].