Tom, the delivery guy, was familiar with us, always punctual and greeting us with a friendly “How’s it going?” as he arrived at our doorstep. Tonight, however, it was just me since Jake was out of town on business, and the silence felt more pronounced.
I ordered my standard pepperoni with extra cheese. When the doorbell rang, there stood Tom, but something was different. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and his hands trembled slightly as he handed over the pizza box.
“Evening, Emily. No Jake tonight?” Tom inquired, his voice tinged with nervousness.
“Just me this evening,” I replied, trying to keep the mood light. Tom nodded abruptly and left rather quickly—too quickly, which seemed odd.
After closing the door, his behavior lingered in my thoughts. Was he okay? Dismissing the concern, I brought the pizza to the kitchen. The familiar aroma of garlic and tomato sauce was usually comforting, like a warm embrace.
But as I opened the box, my heart raced. Scribbled on the inside lid with a black Sharpie was a chilling message: “He is not who you think. Check your door camera.”
The pizza lost its appeal as a wave of dread overtook me. My hands shook as I put the box down, the once cozy apartment now overshadowed by an ominous quiet. What was I about to discover on that camera?
Fumbling with the tablet that controlled our door camera, I felt each second stretch into forever as I opened the app. Anxiety coursed through me as I reviewed the camera footage, my breath catching with each swipe through the recorded days.
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