I stifle another yawn with my hand that holds the pen. But I can't rest, there's work to be done, so I return the pen to paper. We all hunch over this table making ideas tangible, like children in Taiwan hunched over making Nikes. "The pay is horrible." Someone remarks, but it is a job that needs to be done. I get here with sun pouring through the windows, watch the envious staring at our coveted table, I will say my farewells hours after the sun has said his. Huck gets up to leave the table, "I'm clocking out guys."