[From the cutting room floor of my content edits. It’s great at waxing poetic, but did nothing to move the story along. So it goes.]

Some time had passed, more than desired and less than expected. Jason had wandered to a bar he used to frequent, a familiar stomping ground to provide him with some comfort of some kind. Once inside, the doorman recognized him and waved him in, shaking Jason’s hand and welcoming him back.

“Is Riley here?” Jason asked.

The doorman nodded and pointed towards the back. “Usual place, you know. Good to see you again, Jason!”

Jason headed towards the back of the bar, the longest trek by the dimensions of the place, and passed by more familiar faces. Bartenders and wait staff all called out to him like some hero coming home from war, a place where he felt–in that moment–like he belonged. Half way to his destination, one of the women stopped him and confirmed his usual order and said she’d be back. When she moved aside, Jason saw the familiar black long coat draping off the stool of the patron straight ahead. The man drank his beer quietly and didn’t so much as flinch at the fanfare of Jason’s return.

“Hey Rile, how you been?”

Riley barely shrugged and set down his glass. The waitress from before brought Jason his usual stout and left just as quickly. Riley raised an eyebrow at the sight. “Good to know some things never change.”

Jason took a seat beside him and stared forward at the mirrored backsplash of the bar. The two had left on good enough terms, but while Jason was able to adapt to things in the world around him, Riley always felt compelled to stay close to his routine and familiar surroundings, the primordial creature of habit. After a moment of silence, Riley raised his glass in a gesture, and Jason met it with his own, a clink that barely registered. Taking a drink and setting down the glasses, Riley finally spoke up again. “Either something seriously hit the fucking fan, or you’ve run out of shit to do with your time if you’re coming back here.”

“Bit of both, but mostly the first part.” Jason took another long drink before continuing. “In the last week, I broke up with my cheating girlfriend, when she tried to get me to commit more. I lost my job because the company needs a fall guy for their poor strategies. I will probably be evicted next week for not making rent, but that’s a future me problem. I’m like 90% certain I have a stalker, and they’re pretty good at the cut and run part. Oh, and someone stole my car.”

Riley turned his head and raised another eyebrow. “Goddamn, and you call me Rile.” He waved the waitress for another round and continued, “That’s a hell of a week J, gotta say. How are you holding up?”

“Well, I’m not stealing your namesake just yet, but it’s all a shit show.” Jason shrugged and leaned forward onto the bar. “It’s easy to not think about the breakup, that was writing on the wall. Work is a pain in the ass, and the panic to pay the bills doesn’t help. Let’s just say the house is on fire.”

“A metaphor for the ages, right?”

“Yeah, to say the least.” Jason straightened up and looked around. “At least my shadow didn’t follow me in here.”

“Would that be so bad?” The question made Jason turn back to Riley. “Really, maybe what you need is a change of significant proportions instead of falling back to familiarity. Have you made contact with your little stalker friend?”

“Not yet.” Jason took a drink. “Not sure I want to.”

There was a noticeable pause in the moment before Riley spoke up. “Let’s get back to that metaphor for a minute.” He stopped to thank the waitress for his next beer and resumed. “First of all, this isn’t some dictionary definition here, right. ‘Getting on like a house on fire’ doesn’t exactly mean what you need it to for your circumstance. Shit isn’t going extremely well, in fact, the reverse in spades. Then there’s the disaster parallel, which I think better suits your needs. Any building ablaze would definitely get some alarm from the surrounding people, but I think that’s a bit short of the problem right now. If you’re here, in this bar, with us,” Riley said, waving his hand around, “then you’re not exactly getting the reception of a disaster of that proportion.”

“Christ, Rile, I can’t tell if you’re too drunk, or not drunk enough,” Jason scoffed.

“Lemme finish, lemme finish,” Riley waved off. “The proper case of your metaphor is subtlety.” Jason looked a question at him. “Think about it: ‘the subtlety of a house on fire.’ Not exactly subtle, and it conveys the parallel of a disaster you can’t ignore.”

“Okay, go on,” Jason offered cautiously.

“Let me add one more layer to this cake for you. You have the subtlety of a house on fire, in hell.” Jason blinked back in momentary confusion. “A house on fire isn’t something you can ignore, not when it’s so readily apparent that it shouldn’t be on fucking fire. But who would notice such a thing if everything else around is also on fire? Who would care?”

Jason’s lip curled in discomfort. “You suck at pep talk, you know that?”

Riley slapped Jason’s shoulder in the most animated reaction he gave of the night. “But there’s still something wrong, right! You have to think through this one to see it for yourself, but once you do, you can’t avoid it.”

I’d sooner take a bat to the head than think through this, Jason thought.

“The house is on fire and people come running to put it out, save the day. In hell, no one notices, no one cares. Except a very rare few that recognize the problem, and they can’t look away once they see it.”

Jason exhaled, looking at Riley with tired eyes. “And that is?”

“A house doesn’t belong in hell.”

Jason was shook for a moment, both by confusion and the recognition of the sentiment. “So you’re saying-“

“You don’t belong here, Jason.” Riley took a drink and gave Jason a half smile. “And maybe this new shadow of yours sees it, too.”

The realization gave Jason shivers and he turned about to the front quickly, seeing the briefest glimpse of the familiar ratty hoodie and blacked out aviators that had been haunting him for days. A blink of disbelief and they were gone.

“She’ll be back, I’m sure.” Riley went back to his beer.

“She?” Jason asked, still in a daze of the last few moments.

“Oh yeah, a real looker that one. I’m surprised you didn’t see that first.”