“Jackie?” came his mother’s voice from the living room as he shuffled in the door. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he said, his voice a harsh, rasping whisper that was nonetheless loud enough to be heard in the next room. “Good morning, Mom.”

“You’re not working today?”

He shut the door against the early morning sun. “No, the ticket I was on ended yesterday, and they didn’t give me a new one today. Do you want some breakfast?”