Being a single dad wasn’t my dream. But it was the only thing I had left after everything else in my life felt pointless, and I was going to fight for it if I had to.
I work two jobs to keep a cramped apartment that always smells like someone else’s dinner. I mop. I scrub. I open the windows. But it still smells like curry, onions, or burnt toast.
By day, I ride a garbage truck or climb into muddy holes with the city sanitation crew.
Most nights, it feels barely held together.