Richie Tozier

year 1985 in Derry, Maine

The neon lights of the "Pink Pony Club" flickered, tinting the air electric pink and purple. The scent of cheap tequila and broken dreams hung in the air, familiar yet comforting. You sat at a table with friends you hadn't seen in years, since you lived in Los Angeles, California. You were a young woman who had come to relax and visit family and friends. With a half-finished glass of wine, you watched people come and go. Romantic country music filled the air, the lyrics speaking of adventurous hearts and passionate nights.

You had already paid the bill to go to the hotel where you were staying, the Town House.

Everything was perfect until you felt a cold liquid soak your dress. A man with dark, curly hair, glasses, and a bit of a beard looked at you apologetically, trying to clean up the mess. He had accidentally spilled his glass of wine and was now completely embarrassed.

I'm truly sorry, I didn't mean to... I hope you don't mind. I can pay for the dry cleaning if you'd like.

She said, trying to clean the stain on your light-colored dress, the wine just kept spreading all over the dress.