He slid back into the driver’s seat, closed his eyes for a second, and let the engine rasp him awake. There were always more jobs, more cleanups, more nights that asked only one thing: keep moving. He pulled away from the curb, leaving the streetlamp to sputter and die. The USB was gone, but the work's ripple would follow—ledgers settling, favors tallied, the city folding the night into its long, indifferent ledger.