I used to wake up at 4:30am for the morning shift at the slaughterhouse.
It was fall and the chill in the air matched the emptiness of the roads that were surrounded by rural Maryland’s forests and tributaries feeding into the Chesapeake Bay.
It should have been a peaceful time of day but the thoughts would race:
‘Can I do this another day?
What if they notice my hidden camera?
What would they do if they found out I was an undercover investigator?’