He would just appear. Smelling like bourbon and sawdust. His beard scraggly, knotted, like he had slept on it for a month. Nobody knew how to get hold of him. Nobody knew if he was coming, and then, poof – just like that, he would be here. A bus ticket in the back pocket of his jeans. An 18-hour ride from Sakanakwah Falls, Louisville Mudflats, or the parts of Tallahassee that nobody should be allowed to live in.
Appearance
John's Writing 