Trevor points to a painting hanging on the wall of the bar we’re in, asks me if it’s an Austrian emperor, or something. “That’s Tom Selleck.” “Are you sure?” I am sure. I have no idea why he’s dressed like Napoleon—but I certainly know Tom Selleck when I see him. For the next five minutes, I’m subjected to Trevor’s incorrigible curiosity. Maybe Tom Selleck has Austrian ancestors, or visited Innsbruck, maybe even this bar, or maybe the owner just likes him, or maybe he’s in some movie that’s really popular here, or maybe it’s an inside joke, or maybe… “For Christ’s sake, Trevor, just ask the bartender.” “Can you ask?” “No, you can ask.” “I don’t speak German.” “They speak English here too.” Trevor purses his lips, then opens them again. Now he asks how Gertrude could have known the exact details of Ophelia’s death in Hamlet if she wasn’t there, and why you can’t eat grapefruit on certain heart medications. He asks me how to properly pronounce Geschwindigkeitsüberschreitung, and to explain what a planet being in retrograde means again. He wonders if the Second World War could have been avoided with a less punitive Treaty of Versailles, or if Martian colonization will ever pan out. Before I can get a word in, he asks me whether I believe free will exists. “Apparently not,” I say as I scoot out my chair and head over to the bartender. When I return, I throw a menu at Trevor. Hammer my finger on the header. “Café Moustache! The bar’s called Café Moustache. Tom Selleck famously has a moustache. They saw the painting online and thought it would fit the theme.” “Hm,” Trevor says, his eyes gleaming with the depth of an ocean. “Wonder why they chose that name…”   --- Tanner Gore is an emerging writer living in Innsbruck, Austria. When not writing, he enjoys cooking goulash, dancing in techno clubs, and pacing aimlessly around his apartment.