Day four:

Part one:

"I suppose you're wondering what exactly is taken place here?" He cooed nonchalantly.

I quickly agreed from a sip from my coffee cup. "Have I time-traveled..." I swiftly pointed out.

He snickered. "No... no time traveling this time, I'm afraid."

I stifled with denying I hadn't at least traveled back some time. "Just look at these outfits?" I moaned. "Who wears shoulder pads these days... the eighties called, and they are pissed at such travesty."

He leaned closer to the small circular table. His eyes bolstering sympathy but a seriousness that simmered my fashion police sensibility.

"Sweetie... these people, what they are wearing... portraying for that matter, is what reality they cast outward from what they remember to be at their best..." He paused to gander around the football sized room. "Some of them are only here, because they have no idea how to leave... others do what I and a few have been given the unfortunate opportunity to aid in possibly a future assessor, such as yourself." The last word came out in a whisper, as his eyes met mine; empathy again had stained his iris's.

I gulped down to big of a swallow. Pressing against my collar bone to ensure it went down, I composed what little understanding I could manage; ingesting his words, sifting through them one by one. I meandered glimpses to some nearby tables; far enough away that I could make out exactly the words being transpired between the two individuals. What stood out the most was that the gentlemen sitting just across the wooden surface from a younger man with reasonably good-looking dark features – Italian, I would guess – adorned an exact replica of my own gentlemen's attire.

I could've chalked it up to being a serious coincidence only that two tables behind the Italian and gentlemen, were another pair with the only difference being that their was an extraordinarily beautiful brunette woman in an equally suave suit, only a skirt replaced the expertly hemmed pants on the aristocrats' bottom suit. The brunette must have sensed my eyes on her, as she peeked a side view towards me; her right eye whispering a soft white metallic glint.

I had only returned to him, as a hand placed atop my own; his. A soothing and calm feeling compressed any hysterics I may had had been brewing in the pit of my stomach. Perhaps I knew what was transpiring; perhaps even more accurately I was dodging the truth... denial – that's what it must be – I was in utterly and completely in a state of denial.

"Do not be... afraid." He pressed.