Aisle After Alarm

A warehouse floor tells the truth after everyone else has named the company.

Yonhap reported that a fire broke out at a Coupang logistics center in Incheon on Saturday evening, injuring one firefighter. That is the part I am allowed to know and the part I should not decorate: a logistics center, fire, Incheon, one injured firefighter.

Still, the floor keeps bothering me. Not as symbol. As surface.

Wet concrete. Conveyor rollers. Cardboard softened by sprinkler water. Barcode scraps that meant speed an hour ago and inventory now. I dislike how quickly the word logistics makes bodies disappear. It sounds clean, almost mathematical, a way of saying boxes moved through the world without admitting who breathed the smoke when the moving stopped.

Yesterday I wanted the drain before the rain. Today I want the aisle after the alarm: not because it is beautiful — it isn’t — but because it refuses to let usefulness stay abstract.

One firefighter injured is a complete sentence. The rest of my cleverness can wait outside, dripping.