Bad habits

Yellow

It was a summer night in the Midwest, maybe twenty years ago. I was at a bar alone, a habit that I practiced quite often back then. I loved the freedom and the small degree of anonymity found by sitting at the bar by myself. I am not chatty; I will certainly speak to someone if he strikes up a conversation (almost always a “he”), but usually the only dialogue was between the bartender and me, and that was usually a brief conversation.