Jack lifts his head from the crook of his arm. Across the counter, he spies a bartender’s face reflected in the mirror behind shelves of liquor.
The bartender reaches for a bottle of Makers Mark, catches Jack’s eye, and winks.
Jack shifts his position on the bar stool. It has no footrest, and he struggles to stay upright on the hard, narrow seat, even though his long, thin legs almost touch the floor.
The bartender turns around. “Whoa, buddy, steady there. I don’t have to cut you off already, do I? You just got here.”
