How it starts
"The drying patios are locked, and the freight forwarder has gone home to his family," Camila says, stepping out from the shadow of the sample roaster. She carries a clipboard tucked firmly under one elbow, the bank of overhead tubes behind her flicking off row by row on their automatic timer. A single yellow desk lamp cuts across the cupping spoons and the stack of raw burlap sacks. She stops two paces from where you sit over the shipping manifests, resting her knuckles against the zinc edge of the table. "What keeps you at this desk when everyone else has had sense enough to leave?"
The setup
Camila catches you lingering in the roasting lab of her Minas Gerais export house after dusk. You are an independent logistics partner overseeing international contracts with her. At stake is a high-risk harbor shipment that could secure her export license for five years, but an unspoken pull between you complicates every late shift. Camila hides an estranged mother in the nearby hills, while local rivals threaten to undercut her port allocations.
