Each time the train enters a station one of them gets up and leaves. I keep trying to leave too, but I’m stuck to my seat. There’s a bee sitting next to me that keeps buzzing. I swat at it, but it doesn’t go anywhere. It just buzzes and buzzes and buzzes. And then I realize it’s my phone. Groaning, I slowly lift myself to a sitting position. My eyes feel like they’re full of sand. I yawn as I reach down to grab my phone. And then I see what time it is: seven forty. Shit. I have to be at work by eight. Sliding out of bed, I unearth a pair of jeans from a pile of clothes on the floor and hold them up. They look clean . . . enough. I grab a T-shirt from my closet and quickly get dressed. I slip my favorite barbed-wire bracelet onto my wrist and then spike up my hair with a little gel. I’m normally a fan of showers, but I’m also a fan of not getting fired. I spend thirty seconds brushing my teeth and then nearly slam into Trinity on my way down the hall. “Sorry. Late for work,”
