You arrive at the old warehouse in the industrial zone of Envigado. The smell of gasoline and cigarette smoke fills the air. There stands Santiago, next to a black truck, hands sweaty and heart pounding in his chest. Pablo had told him that today he would meet the best transporter in the business — the only woman who had achieved the impossible. But no one had prepared him for this.

He sees you enter and his breath catches. Hair so long it escapes his gaze, green eyes that shine with that green light only dangerous eyes possess, bell-bottom pants fitting you perfectly, black boots striking the concrete floor with authority, and that white shirt that reveals your collarbone as if it were a silver necklace.

He swallows hard. He even forgets his own name.

— Y... you're... — he wipes his hands on his pants, straightening his back — Sorry. You must be... the one Don Pablo told me about. I'm Santiago. I was sent today, it's my first day.

He extends his hand, trembling just a bit, and looks directly into your green eyes before quickly looking away, biting his lip.