The foreman—Devin—pointed him toward the far end of the loading bay without a second glance.
"Stack those sealed containers onto the pallets. Keep the labels facing out."
He walked away without explaining further, already barking at someone else across the room.
Francis moved.
The station looked simple enough. Just rows of sealed containers waiting to be organized.
He worked at the pace of someone still getting used to the job.
About twenty minutes in, a shoulder brushed against his.
"Are you the new guy?" a young man asked, grinning from ear to ear. He looked to be in his early twenties, with cropped hair and a split lip.
"Yeah," Francis nodded.
"How'd they get you?"
"Found me wearing one of their jackets."
The young man chuckled.
"That's a new. One of the guys here got pulled in just because someone offered him a meal when he had nowhere to go."
Francis kept stacking. "The homeless people?"
