[Nothing fires up the sweetness of nostalgia as a physical repeat. The foot slams into his gut and he's back to grade school, getting yanked off the chain link fence by Belch Huggins and Victor Criss, Henry Bowers rearing back his Keds to knock his ribs out of order and send him bawling to momma. Richie hasn't got anyone to run crying to now. Just the judgment of the AI mirror in his hotel room, if he doesn't wind up in an infirmary for this. Grown folks don't bounce back like kids do.
The man moves in, bending down to snarl his lapel in his fist and pull Richie up. All the better to face the ugly mug of the man he'd dared to piss off.
Before the threats come, a shadow blocks the sky. Both men look upwards and see the laughable impossibility of the UFO crowning over the rooftops. The burly bruiser squints in confusion. Richie winces likewise, but the familiarity is nipping at him all over again.
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The man moves in, bending down to snarl his lapel in his fist and pull Richie up. All the better to face the ugly mug of the man he'd dared to piss off.
Before the threats come, a shadow blocks the sky. Both men look upwards and see the laughable impossibility of the UFO crowning over the rooftops. The burly bruiser squints in confusion. Richie winces likewise, but the familiarity is nipping at him all over again.
Isn't she one of...]