"Will you go to Jeffersonville?” asked the man standing at the curb in front of Junior’s downtown pizzeria.
“Jeez — lemme think about it,” I hedged, taking a moment to size up the guy. He looked about 30 and wore a maroon wool cap and checked flannel shirt, very rural Vermont-style. “It’s the busiest time of the night, is the only reason I’m hesitating,” I explained. “Where in Jeff?”
“No problem, I understand. Everyone’s got to make a buck. I live up the Mountain Road, not too far from Smuggs.”... Read more
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