Issue 9: Transients

Lawrence F. Farrar It was Jackie. I knew her right away. Should I speak to her or not?  I couldn’t decide. Maybe she wouldn’t recognize me. I’d taken a seat at the end of the counter, and so far she hadn’t looked my way. She was busy waiting on a couple who’d just come in on a bus from Bakersfield and couldn’t make up their minds on whether it would be the meat loaf or the ham steak. How many years had it been?  Maybe twenty. She’d dropped out of school at fifteen or sixteen. That would make her about…

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