Rocket Cars & Lost Time Travelers

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The bar at the end of whenever by J. J. Litke

The bar’s front door burst open and banged into the wall. A man stumbled in, wearing a vest and string tie that were at least a century out of date. He clutched at the door frame, eyes wide as coasters. “What year is it?”

Damn, not this again. I set the mug of beer I’d just pulled down on the bar top and slid …