The warehouse never truly slept, but at 3:17 a.m. on a February night it came as close as concrete and steel ever would. The last outbound trailer had sealed forty-three minutes earlier. The yard jockey killed his engine and disappeared into the guard shack with a thermos of truck-stop coffee. Then the building did what it always did when no one was watching: it exhaled. Lights dimmed to security levels, HVAC fans dropped...