laughs, and he plays a good game of Eight Ball. He smokes too
much and every room he spends time in ends up looking like a
bar. I believe that if Jimmy were able, he would surround himself
in black and white.
He doesn't know much about me, and that's the way I want it. Jimmy
says he thinks of me, often. But it isn't Jimmy who thinks about me.
It's those romantic bits of his that do all of Jimmy's thinking.
"So kid, ya married?"
Jimmy pounded the stiff rubber end of his cue stick on the floor three times...
No..... No Jimmy.... I ain't married... Not no more.
"It's yer shot....."