About the work

The man who cleaned the trams used to steal a bird from its cage every other night, just after his shift ended. He would slip it under his apron, a tiny, nervous lump, and take it to the diner for the cook to clean. The cook didn't ask questions. He'd pluck it while the night shift wound down, before the sun came up, leaving a feather or two on the amber counter. It was a secret arrangement, born of shared silences and the particular hunger of late-night work. He still leaves a clean cage behind, even though the birds are gone, and the trams no longer run.