Urgent Warning from Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian

I work graveyard shifts at a warehouse. There is one rule: Don’t turn off the lights.

Adam : P1

I’ve always preferred nights. Something about being up while everyone else is asleep feels great—that, and I can’t sleep.

Ever since my fiance passed away, sleeping became a luxury I couldn’t afford. I used to lay in bed, tossing and turning, the entire night. My eyes would be bloodshot. When sunlight peeked through my blinds, I rose up and off my bed like a zombie.

Melatonin never helped. I guess my body grew an immunity to it over time. I mean, why wouldn’t it? I’m surprised I didn’t overdose, taking ten pills a night.

Herbal teas that ‘help you sleep’ are bullshit. Nothing but a waste of money. Don’t even get me started on those intense sleep routines: Shut off all electronics/artificial lights thirty minutes before bed, don’t eat an hour before bed, read a book, and whatever other shit they have you do. That may work for some people. Sure as hell didn’t work for me.

I even resorted to counting sheep—well, my version of counting sheep: Imagining millions of alternate realities where Vaneet was still alive. I laid awake, smiling like a fool up at the popcorn ceiling. My imagination got so vivid that I would see her silhouette in the corner of my room for seconds at a time. I wanted nothing else but to believe it was really her. To believe she came back just to say one last, proper farewell.

The logical part of me knew what’s dead will always stay dead. The other part of me found loopholes in that saying: What’s dead may truly never die… In my mind.

The sleepless nights and hallucinations took a toll on my mental health. I contemplated suicide many, many times. Maybe I’ll be with her in the afterlife, I thought. She's waiting for me.

Thankfully, the logical side of me won, and I attended therapy. My therapist was, and still is, the kindest woman I’ve ever met. At first, I thought she was getting paid to act nice to me, pretending to care about my feelings. But no, she truly listened and understood.

When I told her about my sleep problems, she recommended that I get a graveyard shift job. It never occurred to me. I live in a big city—the city that never sleeps. There are overnight jobs everywhere. The perfect solution. I could just sleep throughout the day.

I applied to every graveyard job I could find online. Some rejected me, saying my work experience at a grocery store wasn’t enough. A few called me in for interviews, which went bad, I guess, since I never got a reply.

Only one job was willing to take on an inexperienced employee. It was a warehouse job for a well-known grocery store in my area. The pay wasn’t too bad. Plus, I had to start getting experience somewhere.

I got word from my new boss that two other people were starting on the same night as me. That was somewhat relieving. I wouldn’t be the only new guy. I always got stupidly nervous before starting new things. A Job, College, the Gym, everything. I feared the unknown. My mind would cope by imagining every possible scenario. By the time I pulled into the parking lot of the warehouse, I thought of one hundred and seventy-five scenarios that could go down.

Blue moonlight shone down on the warehouse. It had a gray steel exterior, with a ton of light poles lining the sidewalk. It was as if they wanted to recreate the sun with how many light poles there were. Just thinking of the electricity bill made my head ache—maybe the absurd amount of black coffee I drank played a part in that.

I glanced at my malfunctioning radio which displayed the time: 11:45

The closer it got to twelve, the faster my heart beated. I pulled down my car’s sun visor and looked in the mirror. Only then did I realize how dilated my pupils were. Shit, shit. I drank too much coffee. They’re gonna think I’m on drugs and then fire me–