the smuggler’s bible

Solfrid

The pills Solfrid buys from the guy at the metro station come in a childproof bottle with the word THORBOZIDE printed on the label. She decides to make a tentative inquiry, despite it being a slight breach of etiquette.

“This is the right stuff?” she says. “We’re, like, one-hundred percent on that?”

“Totally. That’s the main chemical or whatever.”

“Okay, a little confusing.” Solfrid taps at her phone. “Also I think that literally cannot be true.”

Business, however, is about managing expectations. And at the end of the day, a loss (much like thorbozide) is what you make of it.