It’s always the same. I pull up an hour before my shift begins. I get into a staring contest with a little grey cat who lives by the dumpster. I know her by her human-seeming eyes, narrow face, and scabbed temples. She always wins. And then I work on this letter, which I have no intention of sending to you or anyone. If you’re reading this, then it means something happened before I had a chance to delete everything.