I watch as you enter the diner, already attempting to determine however long you’ll stay for. Employees filter rapidly, most of them breaking their parole, so I can’t help but feel slightly deterred from attempting to fabricate a comfortable stay.

“Charlie Peters,” I introduce myself, not bothering to engage in a handshake, “Come in drunk, you’re fired. Come in high, you’re fired. Either way, I alert your parole officer. Do you understand?”