Jessica Pan

In my case, “freelancer” was a euphemism for wandering around the apartment in my pajamas and becoming overly excited when I’d see stray cats in my backyard.

As if I was worried about my intestines. As if I was worried about tomorrow. I was addressing hundreds of people in an hour. Screw tomorrow, pass the spicy beef.

I’m antisocial anywhere after hour three, which is when I turn into dust. Grumpy dust.