the smuggler’s bible


The box they drop off in front of Priya’s house is made of mushy cardboard and leaves a wet stain on the concrete. She opens the garage and pushes it inside with a broom. There is also considerable odor. She ties a rag soaked in febreeze around her face and tries to pretend she never noticed.

“You can’t keep it here.”

“Well, not forever.”

“I mean for any length of time. Remove it. Immediately.”

“But the janitor at work threw away the last batch—”

“He is a hero.”

“And now he’s suing us over it,” Priya says. “Like a dick.”