I'm barreling down the run way at 88 mph, the Flux Capacitor force slamming me back, lights somewhere are flashing, Bravo Charley!
New York City
sunny and warm I'll have to shed this San Francisco summertude
there is fashion sense, which I'm not supposed to talk about.
and a familiar voice, which I've not heard in a while, my own.

later.
he: you look good
I like your eyes
me: I like your honesty