He refilled my beer glass and shouted to someone at the end of the bar. I leaned back on my stool to catch a view of the band that was tuning up below a lab-coated Vincent Price.

"Who's up first tonight?" I asked Henry as he passed by.

"Dr. Kessler and the Spider Veins. They're pretty good, they played here last week."

I listened to several songs as I milked my last beer. Henry leaned out and over the bar and tapped me on the shoulder during the fifth song.

"What do you think?" he shouted.

"You're right, they are pretty good," I yelled in return.

"No, the time, what do you think about the time? It's ten forty-five already."

"Oh shit. Hand me my gear, I've got to go."

"This way," he said, leading me behind a black curtain into the storage room. "Go out this door. I'll leave it propped open for you until we close."

I quickly walked to the bus stop at the side street and waited on the empty bench for the number thirty-seven to come. I caught myself tapping my foot in nervous expectation and placed both feet flat on the sidewalk to stop them. I closed my eyes and visualized the flames licking at the support posts. It was working.

The bus stopped in front of me and I entered it, handing the fare to the female driver without making eye contact. I walked back and took a seat across from the rear door as the bus left the curb. There were six other people on board.

My foot started tapping again and I could feel the tension rising inside my chest. I wanted to yell out at the top of my lungs what I was about to do. I wanted to shock these six people into my reality. I was about to commune with myself, but I really wanted to commune with them, with anyone. I stared at each one in turn, my foot hammering now. They didn't care. They just sat there ignorant, distant, dead.