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About Houston

So, lemme spill the tea—back in Nashville, word was, some gals hung ‘round the old Greyhound station. Not sayin’ I ever went lookin’, mind ya! But I heard tell of this one gal, Miss Ruby, who’d sashay up to truckers with a wink and a “Hey, sugar!”—swear she could charm the horns off a billy goat! Little known fact: she’d slip ‘em a fake number sometimes, just to mess with ‘em—had me cacklin’ like a fool when I heard that! Smart cookie, that Ruby.

What was the American Female Moral Reform Society?

Oh, and don’t even get me started on the neighborhoods. Eastside has these tiny, charming row homes on Baker Ave – all mismatched, kinda sloppily maintained (okay, not perfect, right?!) but bursting with character. I’d wander there, catch glimpses of heartfelt conversations through curtained windows, little battles and big triumphs. Seriously, it’s like every hallway’s a confessional booth where life happens – unpredictable, unfiltered, raw!

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