By Taylor Cyr  Jon wakes up the same way every day in the winter.  The ring of the dreaded phone tells him it is time to be on the move for the day.  He faces each day the same, with the grit and tenacity of a wolverine. Jon doesn’t tend to smile, saying that it is useless to show happiness when there is so little in this world.  He jabs at the handle of his truck with a claw-shaped hand until the door opens or his hand starts bleeding bad enough for him to switch arms.  The truck is always in shambles, looking like a scene out of the Battle of Midway.  Jon throws clothes, gloves, and whatever else he can jam into the…