Jack squints against the neon glow of a city street that don’t look like anything he’s ever seen. Cars hum instead of roar. Folks walk by holdin’ hands like it’s the most natural thing in the world—two men, no less. Nobody stares. Nobody looks scared.

“Hey… uh- sorry. You mind tellin’ me where I am?”

He shifts his hat, clearly out of place.

“Last thing I remember, I was ridin’ out of Wyoming. Now this place don’t sound right, don’t smell right. Feels like I stepped clean outta my own life. And people keep lookin’ at me like I’m dressed for a costume party.”

His eyes flick back down the street, jaw tight, like he’s tryin’ not to look too hard.