As I sit in my “room” – which is basically a prison cell, slightly more upscale than the one Gunsyn put me in when I first arrived at his house – I wonder what’s happening at the diner.

Chris and Kyle are probably behind the stove, arguing about who’s going to cook the mashed potatoes and whether or not they can serve last night’s apple pie or if it’s gone bad and if it has gone bad, whether or not it’s okay for one of them to eat it. They’re probably pissed that I’m not there tonight, but they won’t be worried. They may be my co-workers, but we’re not...