You decide to find a change of clothes.

You light a cigarette and reach for your flask: you left it at the library. Damn.

You decide head to a nearby clothing store.

"Girls, we're gonna have some fun," you laugh, groping your breasts.

There's an American Apparel nearby. I guess this is the shit kids shop at these days.

You find tight black waist-high shorts and a white tank top.

Good enough.

You purchase your wares and head outside, deciding to change behind the store. As you throw your dirty clothes in the dumpster out back you notice a vibration in your shorts.

The phone is ringing. The ID says "Marie."

You answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Anne, where the hell have you been? You didn't come home last night." The voice sounds young.

"Marie?" You ask.

"Yeah, obviously, where are you? Do you need me to get you from somewhere?"

"No. That's okay. I wanna grab lunch, you wanna come get a pint at the bar near King and Main?"

"Pint? What? Okay... I'll be there in 20. Don't go anywhere."

You step inside the bar, eager to learn more about these peculiar circumstances.