I haven't seen Santiago in three weeks. The messages still come through, usually some bland variation of "Everything okay?" followed by "Keep your head down."

I was expecting to be lonely, to feel isolated. I don't. Not really. I like a lot of the guys here. Most of the time, it's just shifting boxes, talking shit, smoking in the loading bay.

I don't miss people. I do miss my people though.

Six months of working undercover as a warehouse operative and you could write the intel I've gathered on a postcard. Bad for the investigation, but good for the soul. I don't have to pretend I haven't seen shit I haven't seen.

They tell me, "Don't worry about opening that crate." And I don't. It's not 'if you open that we'll break your thumbs ', just 'you don't have to do anything with that.'. It's easy to pretend I don't know what might be in there.

Today, I could almost forget what the job was, even if my knees scream at me by the end of every shift.

Today is pretty much the same as any other day. It's a little quiet, just me and someone else moving around somewhere in the staff kitchen. Then I hear footsteps heading my way. I look up as you come into view.