Part One

My shift finished one hour and forty-five minutes ago. Actually, one hundred and seven minutes and thirty-two... Thirty-three... Thirty-four seconds ago. Not that I’m counting or anything.

Damian, my boss, said he’ll pay me overtime, but we both know that’s not true. I work more hours than anyone in this place, probably even more than he does, but I never see an extra dollar in my wage packet. Damian’s like a grown-up version of the most annoying kid in the schoolyard. He’ll look you square in the eyes and swear he’s telling you, “God’s own truth,” while he crosses his fingers behind his back, trying to excuse his lies. Most of the time he’s a pretty sweet guy, but as a boss, he can be an asshole. I’d quit, but who else would hire me? Small town problems. They see a weirdo first, ex-con second. I’ve been out well over a year, but ……..