Writing what I live and see
Isaw a man sitting on some steps in Texarkana and circled back, parked my car, and grabbed a Gatorade to get out and meet him. “Hi, I’m Pam. It’s hot out here.”
“Sure is. Very.” “Looks like I have something you might like.” He smiled, and his gold caps sparkled against his brown skin in the sunlight. He had the best grin. Shaking my hand like a gentleman, he said, “T...