The Bar at the End of the Universe

All at once, there was a man in the bar. His clothes were old and dusty, hanging as if made of rags off his slender frame. He looked down at his hands, fingers flexing, clearly shocked to find he was no longer holding something he thought he ought to be holding. He stepped back, back hitting the wall. There he stood, frozen, wide eyed, with the look of a deer caught in headlights, though the analogy was far from accurate as he had no idea what headlights were.

Welcome to the bar, Edward Sexby. PLease enjoy your stay.