one night, a freak thunderstorm and tornado hit, and you’re driving across state lines, trying to get away from your life. you decide to stop at the nearest place off the hwy, an unmarked shack of a bar with a couple trucks outside. you go inside and this place is fuckin weird. like you’ve been to bars and you know shitty bars but this is weird. strange people fill the seats, all staring at you. you sit at the counter, a spot in between you and other people beside you. the bartender knows you’re not from around here, and knows you shouldn’t be here. you order a house vodka and soda, getting a raised eyebrow in return before ‘he’ leaves to go make your drink. a hooded man sits next to you, looking as human as you. he cradles a short glass with something dark, asking you “d-do you know where you are?”
