The night air was colder than Thabiso expected.
He walked faster, hands deep in his pockets, his stomach empty but his mind racing. The job Sipho mentioned—it sounded easy money. Too easy.
"Just carry the bag. Don't ask questions."
Those words kept echoing.
A black car rolled slowly beside him.
The window slid down.
"Get in."
Thabiso hesitated. His instincts screamed at him to walk away. But then he remembered the coins. The hunger. The embarrassment.
He opened the door and got in.
Inside, two men. One driving. One staring straight at him like he was already guilty of something.
"No talking," the driver said.
They drove in silence.
Fifteen minutes later, the car stopped near an abandoned warehouse.
The man in the back handed Thabiso a duffel bag.
"Take this inside. Room at the end. Leave it there. Walk out."
"That's it?" Thabiso asked.
The man smiled—but there was nothing friendly about it.
"That's it… if you don't mess it up."
Thabiso stepped out, heart pounding.
The warehouse door creaked open.
Inside—it was too quiet.
Too empty.
Too wrong.