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.
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