They Kicked Our Survival Box, So We Built a Wall They Couldn’t Tear Down

She just put her head down on the scratched folding table of the 24-hour laundromat and let out a sound that wasn’t quite a sob. It was the sound of total defeat.

I know that specific panic. I’m 74, and I have the same gray zipper case in my pocket.

Her name is Mia. She’s one of the “ghost shift” kids—driving delivery orders all night for people who continue reading …