Travis didn't usually like to go to bars. His little brothers liked to go there, so he would only go two or three times after being called to him many times.
The music was too loud, the lights were too flashing, there were too many people, the wine was not good, and my brain hurt when I came out.
Everyone thought that he just didn't like this kind of environment. No one knew that such chaos would make him nervous and would often pull him back to certain fragments of his memory.
Although it was not quite the same, he didn't know when there would be a dot, a detail, or even just a flash of light.
Travis lowered the brim of his hat, looked down at the stamp on his hand, and followed Connor in.
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