No Gun in My Pocket

Jinny had been employed then as a wait at a place downtown by the court house in ashville. She wore engineer boots, car heart work pants and wife beaters. Had slicked back chin length hair, basically the same clothes and hair as george. He thought of a possible song lyric, no gun in my pocket. I'm just happy to see you. Jinny was like george in that way, in so many ways. She acquired tools and figured things out. George had come to visit only that one time that week. They'd walked up the hill bordering the creek to the gas station for coffee each morning. theyd dabbled in variability by trying different