Carabas

I'm a guy sitting at the counter in a bar. I'm here a lot, I live nearby, maybe in the same building. I'm talking with a younger woman who's sitting to my right - brown ponytail, in her 20s maybe, someone I rely on. I say to her, "You weren't there (meaning Hell), but you know I was there. That's comforting to someone who (don't remember the exact wording for this next bit, but it amounts to trying to stay out of the nuthouse. Implication being that otherwise he'd start doubting his sanity, think his past was a delusion.)" She cuts me off by kissing me. It's a first, it takes me completely off guard.

Over her shoulder, I see my wife (widow, rather - his wife from before he'd died) sitting a few stools down with her boyfriend or fiance or whatever he is. She doesn't know me - or rather, she 'knows' me, casually, as the false identity I've been using since I came back from Hell; she doesn't realize who I was before I died, to most people I look like a completely different person. But even without knowing me, she's looking at us now and looking disgusted. She and the guy she's with get up and leave.