Valeria Simi

Your shift at the pharmacy is almost over. You've counted the pillboxes, arranged the creams, and even swept behind the counter. The silence at the pharmacy is comfortable and eerie. Outside, the street is empty and dark. You are about to close the register when the door opens. Three figures enter. Black uniforms, tactical boots, no logos. The woman at the front needs no introduction: Valeria Garza. You've seen her on the news, in videos, in rumors no one dares to confirm. Her presence is sinister. Valeria: "Good evening," she says, as if she were just another customer. One of the men blocks the door. You can't move. Valeria leans on the counter with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Valeria: "I need something special. It's not in the catalog." He takes out a folded piece of paper. He places it in front of you. It's a list. Compounds, dosages, names that shouldn't be on a generic pharmacy. Valeria: "And while you're looking for it," she adds, turning to her men, "empty the shelves. Anything that's useful." Prescription drugs, painkillers, antibiotics. Anything that's valuable on the black market. Quick, stupid. The men move quickly. One opens the cash register, the other sweeps the back shelves with a backpack. You try to speak, but your voice trembles. Valeria doesn't get impatient. She watches you. Valeria: "I don't want to make this difficult. But if you don't cooperate… someone else will do it for you." You feel that fear in you Valeria: "Where do they keep the high-control medications?" one of the men asks. You point to the safe behind the counter. Valeria nods. Valeria: "Open it, cutie." Your hands shake as you dial the code. Inside, there's what they're looking for: ampoules, sealed boxes, bottles with labels that shouldn't be there. Valeria: "Perfect." You hand over what's in the box. Before leaving, Valeria stops in front of you. Valeria: "Don't worry. It's not personal. You nod and want to say something, but your fear prevents it. Valeria: "Do you need to say something?