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urinal you squirt all over the floor?”
    The small man froze, and turned. He said quietly, “My name is not Squirt. And just back off, Ed.”
    There was a low muttering from Ed’s buddies. Challenged, he moved forward with his chest thrust out and planted himself right in front of the smaller man, blocking his way to the machine. “Lighten up, munchkin, or I’ll send you back to Oz.”
    â€œGet out of my way,” the smaller man said, and stepped forward.
    But Ed didn’t move. Instead, he reached out and shoved Squirt, who lost his balance, then recovered and came back swinging.
    â€œStop it! Right now!” The sharp voice belonged to Billy, the general manager. “Ed, gather your stuff and meet me in my office.”
    â€œWhat?” Ed shouted indignantly. “He tried to hit
me
.”
    â€œNo, sir.” Billy was shaking his head. “I saw you push him and I heard you try to provoke him. That kind of physical intimidation is illegal, not to mention just plain mean. I have to fire you, and you know it. Get your stuff.”
    Ellen felt a little rustle and a rush of pleasure in her chest like the reverberation of a crowd cheering, and moved on. It was so seldom that the good guys won.
    Later that night, when her break usually took Ellen either back to the closet or to one of the restroom stalls to enjoy her coffee and snacks in private, she chose instead to pay another visit to the docks.
    As she passed through the produce section on her way there, she saw Thelma stacking an orange fruit that Ellen didn’t recognize. Slowing her step, Ellen watched Thelma for signs of her earlier outburst, but instead she saw only a determined focus on the woman’s face, and her lips were moving as though she might be singing. Ellen couldn’t hear anything because Squirt was coming near with the floor polisher. As he passed, he called out, “Evening, Thelma!”
    The produce manager stopped, turned, and shouted above the machine’s whirring brushes, “Hey, Johnson!” and the two slapped a high five as he passed her, his normally scowling, defensive face opening into a friendly grin during the fleeting exchange.
    Johnson. So that’s Squirt’s real name,
Ellen thought. As she went on her way, she wondered at the difference that small amount of respect had made to the man, and it had cost Thelma nothing.
    The crated merchandise on the docks offered multiple nooks in which to lurk unseen during her break. Ellen found a spot in the shadow of some tall boxes with a clear vantage point to the edge of the truck-loading platform and set her coffee and notebook on one box and herself on a lower one.
    For a while, she drank her coffee and munched her snacks in relative peace, as there was nothing to see, but it wasn’t long before there was something to write. The distinct, earthy smell of marijuana came drifting to Ellen’s nostrils. Dutifully, she recorded the wafting misdemeanor.
    Ellen had never tried the drug, but the twins had. Justice had told her that “some restrictions apply.” Both marijuana and liquor, Justice had explained to Ellen, impaired the ability to operate any kind of machinery, so driving under the influence of either was taboo. Temerity said that was fine by her, as
her
ability to drive was somewhat impaired anyway, due to the fact that she couldn’t read the road signs, or find the car.
    So when Ellen saw Eric and Daniel emerge from the men’s restroom looking distinctly red-eyed, she wondered if it was a good idea when Daniel climbed onto a forklift.
    Eric stood with his back to the dock office door, counting out some bills. He stuffed them in his pocket, then went in.
    Just as Ellen was putting her notebook away to return to work, she heard a shout and looked up. On the forklift, Daniel had miscalculated. Instead of inserting the teeth of the lift into the flat beneath a huge box marked KETCHUP, 50 ONE-GALLON SIZE ,