The Bar Stool***
The bar is shaped like the letter, J, and I sit on the barstool at the end of the curve in the tail of the J. The door to the outside is behind me and to my right and the bar fixture itself goes back into the bar to the top of the letter, J, to my right. The picture window is to my left. Sometimes, a group of us order out and eat in the bar. The fried donuts were bigger than mini-donuts and dusted, sparsely, in refined, sparkly white sugar. They were a weird thing to order from a Chinese restaurant but, sometimes, I crave sugar. If I want more sugar, I dip a donut in the sugar that sifted through to the bottom of the white, styrofoam box no doubt when the donuts were put into it. It is not really enough extra sugar for 10 donuts but then sugar creates a hunger of its own. There is a baseball game on the TV behind me and there are other people in the bar which is busy tonight. My left hand is sticky from the sugar and I consider going to wash my ...