Robbie...?...! It can't be. Someone from home, a familiar place.

You follow the cap through the crowded streets. Pushing past locals, they --->GLARE<--- at you, screaming harshly. They don't understand that you don't understand what they want you to understand. Understood?

He stops at the smoke shop. Typical Robbie. There's no doubt. This is the guy who took you to Shamrock Bar back in Wisconsin.


Image from http://www.thedailypage.com/daily/article.php?article=40489


ASIDE: The first time you truly got trashed-- puking green for what seemed liked days. Nonetheless, the best St. Patrick's Day ever. Reminds you of the novel you read in college lit...what's it called?  - - - - Resurrection Man, that's it. Shamrock Bar...the place where all that shit went down.

Today's Resurrection Man: Robbie O'Brady. Back from the dead...and in all places...

You walk in after him. He's buying some incense and turns to leave. You leap out from behind a shelf, startling him. The brown eyes pierce you. The brows furrow, searching your face for clues. He watches eyes well with tears, a lip quiver. :'( He asks, "Is everything alright?" You respond, "I just wanted you to be Robbie," and continue staring, unable to move. He apologizes (I'm sorry), leaving you alone. The man behind the counter shrugs; no solace. He doesn't understand.