Okay, the bar was right there. Right where this dry cleaner’s business is now. The two other stores to either side are the same, I swear, but the bar is gone and this dry cleaner’s is closed.

I go up to the window and press my forehead to it to get a better look inside.

Yep. There’s a counter and a cash register and things that look suspiciously like racks of clothing behind. The place looks like it’s been here for ages too.

But where’s the bar with Nick and the nursing students in it? My phone’s there along with my jacket and it’s getting colder.

October in Ohio, right? Never know what you’re gonna get. Could be eighty. Could be forty. Could rain, sleet, or snow. Could be all that in one day, frankly.

And I guess that bars with friends inside can brown and blow away like an autumn leaf off a tree, right out of your life.

Nope. Uh uh.

Bars don’t do that.

Gotta be me, right? I’m misremembering. I’m wrong. This wasn’t the place. Those fucking kidnappers dosed the woman in the sweater. Maybe they slipped me something too.

I feel my stomach. It hurts pretty bad. He really walloped me. Maybe when that guy punched me he had a hypodermic needle in his hand or maybe a ring with a spike coated in something? I heard of that.

I lift my shirt and look at my belly. It’s already bruising, a swollen round lump of tiny yellow, purple, and blue continents, but the skin isn’t broken anywhere.

They’d slipped that lady a powder into her drink. Maybe I’d inhaled some and it’s messing with my memory.

Deep down I know something else is going on, but I’m at a complete loss here. The bar has to be here, right? Somewhere?

So, I pick a direction and start walking, hoping the bar will be nearby and this night could end. It's getting cold out.

It doesn't work out that way.

I didn’t expect it to if I’m being honest. I just don’t know what else to do.

I walk uphill two blocks with no success, just finding a couple of gas stations and more closed businesses.

I walk back past the dry cleaner’s to go downhill for three more with no luck either. On the block after that, I see one of those chain restaurants that I know has a bar inside. I shrug. Maybe Nick’s in there with my phone. it could be. Probably. I start walking across the parking lot toward the entrance.

I’m getting used to the light and dark blotches swirling around in my vision. I wasn’t sure I would, but it’s amazing what people can get used to. Another friend of mine, Ramal, told me once he’s got a bunch of swimmers in his eye. Little weird thingies that he can see sometimes that aren’t really there and the eye doctor can’t do anything about. He ignores them. I wonder if what I’m looking at is remotely the same, but I can tune them out when I want like he does, which is awesome. I can’t imagine watching a movie or something with this crap getting the in way.

When I step into the restaurant, the blotches swirl around faster and I wonder why. The light and the dark seem equally balanced though.

The hostess is a cute blonde with short stylish hair and glasses. When she smiles up at me she’s sporting no less than four dimples. I’m not sure she’s out of high school.

I say, “I’m here to meet somebody but I’m not sure they’re here yet? Mind if I…?”

She nods and says, “Go on in!”

I do.

I go to the bar first for no better reason than that's where I last saw Nick even though this is a totally different place. It’s late and they’ve got to be getting close to closing. The stools are mostly empty and the tables here are only occupied by a few. Two of them still carry the detritus of a meal, waiting to be bussed.

Nick isn’t here, nor are the future nurses, but the black in my vision grows a bit and gets darker the closer I get to all the alcohol.

I’m worried that it’ll spike like it did under the streetlight in the park and, I don’t know, the sprinkler system will go off or something.

Telling myself that Nick might’ve gotten a table in the restaurant proper, I leave the bar area and start to case the place.

The farther I get from the bar, the more things in my vision balance out, the light returning.

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Some laughter from a corner of the place sounds a bit like Nick’s but not really, and when I get there I see a family of four, the two daughters probably in their mid-twenties, mom and dad in their late fifties, dad grinning at some prank he’s just pulled. His kids do their best to look exasperated by his behavior, but you can tell they’re pleased too.

It makes me miss my dad who died when I was a kid, which makes me miss my mom who is very much alive and would be worried about what’s going on with me.

I’ll call her tomorrow.

Nick’s just not here. My phone and jacket aren’t either. I don't know what to make of it. I'm exhausted and confused. None of this makes any sense.

You know what? I’m just going to go home. Sleep on it, let whatever’s in my system run its course, and I’ll wake up and I’ll find the bar, call Nick and tell him about this bizarre fucking dream I had.

I’m on my way out the door when a waitress stops me. “Did you forget your coat?” she asks, smiles, and walks off into the kitchen.

My place isn’t far. I walked to the bar. But it is about three more blocks from here and I could really use a coat. Something tells me it’s a really good idea to get one.

I go back to the hostess. “You know,” I say. “The last time I was here I left my coat. Do you have a lost and found?”

The dimples reappear as she nods. “Yep,” she says. “Can you describe it for me and I’ll go take a peek?”

Can I describe it?

I say, “Well, it’s dark. It’ll fit me.” I’m tallish and lanky though I've often wished my shoulders were broader. The point is I'm not a difficult fit. “Black…. Long? It’s got….” I gesture vaguely up and down my sides.

She looks skeptical but probably just doesn’t want to confront me by saying anything. I notice the light blotches are a bit more prevalent now than the dark ones. Is it some kind of representation of probability? Maybe? That’s crazy but I really need a coat so I hope I'm right. The light swirls flash.

“I’ll go take a look,” the hostess says with a shrug.

Did that burst of light mean that she made a decision? One in my favor? I have no idea. Something is going on with me. I mean, a fricking car hit a sofa which hit me which launched me into a chandelier and then I fell down some stairs.

The blonde with the dimples comes back with her hands full of something black and a dubious expression. She holds it up. It’s a long dress coat, black, and someone’s added chains around the hips. It’s what I’d wear to convince folks I was a gothic vampire.

“Yep,” I say. “That’s it.”

“Sir,” she says, handing it over. “Are you sure? The buttons are on the wrong side?”

I look at her.

“This is a lady’s coat?”

I cock a hip and wink. “Oh honey,” I tell her. “I’m no lady.”

She giggles as I put it on and sashay out the door.

I feel bad about it, okay? I’m straight and hate a bigot. I know that he can’t speak for the whole community but I’m pretty sure my Uncle Patrick would forgive me for that routine. I need the coat and didn’t want the young woman at the restaurant to feel like she was helping me do anything wrong.

Did I just steal a coat?

I guess I did. Shit.

My mom told me that Uncle Pat was flamboyantly gay back when that kind of behavior could get you beat up and killed. He’s so awesome. Funny. Insightful. He told me once that sometimes a bully forgets that a gay man is still a man and he occasionally likes to feel instructive. He’s good at it too. He likes to say that just because a dude is a little light in the loafers doesn’t mean he’s limited to being Fred Astaire. Why, he could be a Jackie Chan instead. He was my dad’s brother. Dad had a black belt in karate. Uncle Pat has three black belts in various fighting styles and instruction in a few others. I haven’t been in a fight since I was in junior high. I cleaned the guy’s clock because I horsed around regularly with my dad and my uncle in our backyard and learned a bunch of stuff.

I find myself relieved that my apartment building is still here and that my fob works to get me inside. When I get to my floor, my key opens my door.

But none of this stuff inside is mine. I don’t have a folding screen with Japanese mountains on it. My television is bigger and so’s my coffee table.

When the woman comes out of the hallway to the bathroom in a towel, drying her hair, I don’t recognize her either.

She sees me.

We look at each other.

I’m scared.

She’s scared.

I watch her realize that she doesn’t know me and there can only be one reason why I’d break in like this, so I start running right before she starts screaming.

I make for the door to the stairs. Elevator's too slow. I’ve used them a hundred times rather than wait for the elevator, but the stairs are different, the landing is shorter and I’m going too fast.

I hit the rail and start to go over.

I’m on the fifth floor and the stairwell yawns below. Then I’m over and start to fall. The dark in my vision has almost completely overwhelmed the light. I’m going to die.

I push.

I can’t describe it better than that. It’s not pushing. Not really. It feels like pushing and the light explodes.

I stop in midair. Hauled up by my armpits.

My coat’s caught on something though it’s being pulled away from me by my own weight. I look up and see that some of the chains are caught on the end of the metal post on top of the outside banister.

I’m slipping and if I don’t do something I’m going to fall.

If I'm careful, maybe I can climb down and out of my coat. Maybe get a hand on a stair? From there, I bet I can drop onto the flight just below and be okay.

The coat is upside down now and my right arm is farther out of its sleeve than my left so I start with that one. I make sure to get a good grip on the fabric.

The armpit of the coat is functioning as a hook for my left arm. It’s got me good though I hear the sound of the material beginning to strain. I got my right out but the left won’t come. I’ve slid too far down already. I have to lift myself to get free and when I do I hear the coat start to tear.

This sends me into a panic. I scramble down the coat, grabbing fistfuls of it as I descend, but, when I run out of material and snap out of it, I see I’ve gone past the lip of the stairs and I’m dangling there with nothing within reach.

The coat jerks as some of the chains are torn out.

The colors in my vision are almost totally black again like they were when I first started to fall, so I push.

I also begin to kick my legs like I’m a kid on a swing set.

There’s another soundless flash and the coat tears free with a sickening ripping noise, but my feet sting when they clap onto the cheap linoleum and I’m stumbling down the stairs, bleeding off my momentum from the brief drop. I'm upright and I’m okay.

I pull the coat back on, such as it is, and then I’m through the door at the base of the stairs and out into the night which is once more filling with the sounds of sirens.