Marc didn't understand how he had arrived.
Westcity
back again. He was a bit off balance. Dizzy even. The low lights of the bar didn't help, but another thought worried him more.
"How did I get here?"
He looked down a wood table held a dark liquor drink in a nice glass.
But something didn't feel right. Like two worlds were overlapped. He was just in the sun, he felt the top of his head. It was red with a burn. But he didn't remember flying.
There was something else going on.
He tried to remember Stromboli, but it was just a memory now. Like that life experience was eliminated. Although he could still taste the Grappa he had. Even the whiskey couldn't wash that away.
There seemed to be something real but something fake about this place. All created. For what? Who was this for?
No there had to be something else. Something had changed in Marc or more all around Marc, and it allowed him to travel wherever he was needed. Almost at an instant. Or wherever he chose?
