When David came in behind me, all three of them went dead quiet.

Sandra, who’d worked the inventory desk beside mine for two whole years, stared down at her clipboard and didn’t look up.

“Just take what’s yours,” David said from the doorway.

“No company documents or customer manifests.”

I put the cardboard box down on the desk blotter.

I lifted my blue ceramic coffee mug off the little wooden shelf above the monitor.

Marcus, the morning shift supervisor, got up from the table, stuffed his yellow safety vest into his locker, and walked straight out to the loading dock without a word.