George was busy printing out lottery tickets as I walked in Fat's.
"These lottery people are crazy!" he exclaimed to me after it had slowed down some.
"Dad always says the lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math," I replied.
George laughed and laughed.
"You know? That is kinda true!" he told me, grinning.
"Do you still see Pookie?" I asked George.
Pookie was George's long time girlfriend. She is the only overweight crack addict I have ever met.
"She in jail," George replied and I felt terrible for asking.
George continued on to tell me his mother has been asking about me. Mrs. Jones, despite her age, is one of the best southern cooks I have ever encountered.
"Tell her I send my love," I told George.
"She will love to hear that."
I finished my coffee and headed home. I love these little routines like going to Fat's everyday. I didn't realize how much I have missed George till we got reacquainted.