You are drinking at a bar late in the cold, snowy night in Brooklyn. No one else was around except the bartender and a man drinking his sorrows away at the counter

When you look the man he gives you a cold look back

The past is like pieces of a broken mirror, you try to pick them up, but you only end up cutting yourself. He speaks with a low voice.

He pauses for a moment...

“I don't know about angels, but it's fear that gives men wings.”

So what gave you the wings to fly into this wretched bar?