Nathan hasn’t been to the bar in a year. One year, exactly. He sits on a stool and tucks his hat into his jacket pocket.

“Water, with lemon,” he orders, rubbing his brassy Alcoholics Anonymous sobriety chip between his thumb and pointer.

Looking around, Nathan realizes that the bar is nearly empty. A few men in plaid shirts and trucker hats are playing pool in the adjoining room. Bittersweet country music wafts plaintively through the dimly lit bar, and Nathan notices that some chairs are overturned in the corner. Maybe he missed a bar fight. (more…)