After another day of sweeping up coffee grounds and scrubbing toilets, Jessica takes me home for a dinner of microwaved lasagna in front of the TV. The pasta tastes like plastic and the sauce like ketchup, but since neither of us can cook it will have to do. As I eat, I hope Jessica will say she’s going out again tonight, but instead she yawns and then says, “I am wiped. How about you, kid?”
“I’m fine. Must be all that coffee.”
“You have a real future as a janitor,” she says.
“It’s good to know I have options.”
“I only want the best for you. You know that, right?”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
She sighs and then shakes her head. “I...
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