Скачать или смотреть POV: You are a smuggler at the seaport

You wake up to the sound of rats scratching inside the walls. The air in your room tastes like rust and old fish—there's a leak somewhere above, dripping brown water into a bucket you forgot to empty. You're twenty-three years old, and this is all you have: a mattress with springs cutting through fabric, a hotplate that only works when you slam it twice, and a window that looks out onto the seaport where container ships groan like dying animals.
Your father drowned when you were twelve.

Fishing accident, they said, but everyone knew the boat owner cut corners on safety gear. Your mother lasted three more years before the cancer took her. No insurance. No savings. Just medical bills that still have your name on them, passed down like a family curse. You dropped out of school to work the docks—loading, unloading, twelve-hour shifts that turn your hands into leather and your back into a knot of permanent pain.