He had woken up in hell, or something fairly close to it.
Hell, for him, would forever be black and white and full of lifeless faces. Down here, the women would never speak to him, let alone smile or move.
Down here, the men would do nothing but glare endlessly into space, most likely plotting to send him off to an early grave...or, they would have if they hadn't all suddenly gone.
He had come there alone, for the first and last bizarre time of his life. The 'tables', if indeed they could be known as such, still looked as stark white as they had when the Milkbar had first been built. The lights on the inside had never been more blinding as they were tonight. And the smell...oh gods, the smell.
It practically screamed of smoke, and blood, and finally…death.