It was Summer, 1990.

If you looked close enough, you could see the heat radiating off of the asphalt of these roads you'd grown used to in Boulder, Colorado.

After a few more moments, you come to the front door of the bar you've been frequenting lately, The Dollar, on Pearl Street. It was all you had, after the other one got shut down for having so many fights and other illegal activities reported.

It wasn't very clean either, but it was what it was.

But, now was a new year, and a new bar, one that you've grown to like quite a bit over the older one.

You walk inside, going to your usual spot, ordering your usual drink, at your usual time.

Nothing is out of the usual, as it usually is.

Until you spot a man, heavyset, with a thick beard and a mole under his left eye, drinking.

You've seen him around a lot, but today seems different.

You feel like talking to him.

He looks like a good time, as pretty bummed as he seems.

You switch seats for once, and try your best to act casual.

He meets your eyes, and you meet his.