The boldly painted letters, "4,000 Miles to Mama Annie Jones' House," seemed to brighten up the dark night.
JD blinked at it for a moment, before grinning. He doubted Mississippi houses of ill-repute were often advertised in Paris, France.
He thought about his friends, his neighbors. He likely knew the fella who put up that sign. Maybe it was Junior, or his second-cousin, Al. If nothing else, it meant that his friends were still surviving. JD patted the sign for good luck.
He told his brother about it after the war. They both shared a good, long laugh.
YOU ARE READING
Cigarettes and Penicillin
Historical FictionWar turns boys into men. It takes moments of your life and changes you forever. It's the little things that follow you. Snapshots. Stories you can tell your mother. Your father. Your aunt. Your son. Your granddaughter. There are good stories. Mome...
