I'm sorry about undead me, then, I guess? I don't really have any recollection.
[It takes Stan a minute, the door swings shut behind him and he palms his hands together, uncurls his fingers, he aches from his hands to his elbows and he assumes it's the chill getting into the keloid scars on the inside of his arms. Like the town itself is trying to remind him of his poor choices. It's not like he can ask Richie if they made it out okay. He clearly hasn't lived it yet.]
I haven't seen you in thirty years, Rich. Whatever that was, it wasn't me. Eddie's here too? Makes sense that you guys would be attached at the hip.
[For a minute he wonders if anything ever changed between them if Richie ever owned up to who he was. He folds himself into a table near one side of the room.]
no subject
[It takes Stan a minute, the door swings shut behind him and he palms his hands together, uncurls his fingers, he aches from his hands to his elbows and he assumes it's the chill getting into the keloid scars on the inside of his arms. Like the town itself is trying to remind him of his poor choices. It's not like he can ask Richie if they made it out okay. He clearly hasn't lived it yet.]
I haven't seen you in thirty years, Rich. Whatever that was, it wasn't me. Eddie's here too? Makes sense that you guys would be attached at the hip.
[For a minute he wonders if anything ever changed between them if Richie ever owned up to who he was. He folds himself into a table near one side of the room.]