There's a strange comfort in airports before the sun rises, a sense of shared purpose in the quiet hum of machinery. But that comfort is fragile. It can break the moment the lights stutter.
In Lisbon, on a Monday morning, a cleaner watches the baggage claim. Amid the scuffed suitcases, a single white envelope circles on carousel four. It’s out of place, scented faintly with cologne. Inside is ...
