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August 20, 2012
It was getting close to Christmas and living in a tent under the on-ramp was wearing on Jay. The amount of time required for the daily hustle for dope money meant the sun had vanished and the ground was damp by the time he crawled through the flap and sucked down a dozen ketchup packets before fighting for a few hours’ sleep. He began putting together a plan that would net a substantial sum; enough to get him a car, an apartment, the right clothes to go back to work. Getting hit by a bus would do it, maybe FedEx.