A heavy buzzing sound rings out as the electronic lock on the door is disabled. The grey sky disappears to the light brown floors and off-white walls of the bar room. The counter sections off the right corner of the room, and all the leather stools that line its edges were full. Tables lined the wall next to where we entered, and to our left was a pool table, covered in a purple cloth, the main color of the local football team. As we walked into the room, all eyes turned to us. I had made the mistake of entering first, so their looks of suspicion were focused on me, wondering what a minor was doing in a bar. I stepped to the side, revealing my dad, grinning broadly at the patrons. His smile proved to be infectious, spreading across the room like wildfire before everyone turned back to their drinks. My dad ordered a Dirty Girl while I got a soda, and we sat down at a table next to the door. Before long the door opened again, revealing an old man who hobbled in on his cane. It wasn’t unusual for the elderly to visit this establishment, one could even say that the main demographic of the bar was old white males, but this one was older than most, and looked confused and lost.

   “Hey, do you have a seat?” My dad called out to the man, but the man only shook his head. “You can sit with us”, he said with his signature smile. It wasn’t surprising, he sometimes worked as a bartender here, so he knew most of the usual customers.

   “Really? Thank you.” said the man, slowly walking over to take a seat next to my father. They began to casually converse about what they had been up to, but to be honest I couldn’t care less. I preoccupied myself with watching one of the football games playing on the TVs that were scattered across the room. Before long however, my dad had gone to talk with friends on the other side of the room, leaving me to talk to the old man myself. The man seemed to stare at nothing for a moment before speaking to me.

   “You his son?” The man said, reaching a wrinkled hand out to me. His voice was mumbley and hard to understand, it sounded as if he had been drinking, although there was no beverage in front of him.

   “Yeah, my name’s Lee.” I replied, shaking his hand firmly.

   “Roy.” replied the man in a tough yet good natured manner.

   Roy resumed staring into nothing. I looked back towards the TV, but something was odd. The screen was splotchy, as if there was water damage in the circuitry. I looked towards the other TVs in the room, only to find that on one the screen had gone completely red, and the other had gone black and white. In the bar everything was normal, but in the outside world, time seemed to have stopped.

   I turned back to face Roy, and he just nodded at me. He didn’t look like he’d noticed anything, and when I looked around the room, it didn’t look like anyone else had either.

   “You love Montana?” asked Roy, turning to face me. “I could tell you anything. I remember towns that haven’t been around for some time now.”

   Before I could respond he had turned away again. Staying silent for only a moment this time.

   “Your dad is a good man, you know. He takes good care of us.”

   Everyone in the room seemed older now. The patrons no longer seemed to be one person, instead becoming a blend of generations of customers who had decided to spend their afterlife here. Their posture had changed as they slouched onto the bar counter, staring into their drinks. The atmosphere had not changed however, the air was still filled with the sounds of cheery drunks conversing amongst each other. Various dialects and speech mannerisms permeated the air. Some of it was old English, some of it was incredibly modern. Mountain men and software engineers had conversations over their drinks as the football game kept playing above them.

   Roy seemed perfectly comfortable in this cacophony of time, relaxing back into his chair with much more ease than before.

   As suddenly as it had come, everything began to fade away. The men at the chairs straightened their backs as their ghostly compatriots left their side. The discussions become much less exotic, revolving mainly around politics once more. Roy once again looked feeble and old, barely able to form a legible sentence. My dad appeared once more in the doorway, coming over to reclaim his seat.

   “Well, I guess it’s time to get going,” He said to Roy as he put on his jacket. “Have to get back in time to make dinner.”

   Roy nodded at him, “You really should bartend more, you take good care of us.” Roy said, with a ghost of a smile on his face.

   Dad just chuckled and waved him off, he had long since moved on to greener pastures. Still somewhat in shock, I rose up with him to leave the room, waving goodbye to Roy. As we stepped out the door, the magic of the bar faded and the grey, rainy skies that stretched as far as the eye could see came into view once more.