Nairobi, Aug. 15, 2025 — Cold air rolls out when the doors lift. The kind that smells faintly of damp cardboard and cut stems. Workers pull on gloves, move fast — crates of roses, boxes of beans.
This morning the space feels bigger. It is. Storage doubled this week. No ribbon-cutting, just forklifts weaving between fresh pallets, engines humming under the low ceiling.
A man in a thick jacket checks a label, taps it twice, points toward a loading bay. Outside, a jet’s whine builds, steady and high. The clock matters — harvest to plane in hours, not days.
On a wall screen, Amsterdam flashes in green, Doha in yellow. Someone calls out “Frankfurt” and a pallet shifts direction without stopping. By tonight, the air here will be warm again, the floors almost empty. Somewhere else, a florist will open a box that still smells like this room.
