This delivery person knows what you like.
|The knock on the door came just after 10:00 p.m. and Olivia jumped at the sound. A knock wasn’t unusual – the doorbell hadn’t worked for more than a year – but she wasn’t expecting anyone. She padded across the room in her bunny socks and flipped the switch to the porch light. There was no peep window in the door, no way to see who was there without opening up. “Who is it?” she called out to the door in front of her nose.
“Pizza delivery!” came a muffled voice from the other side.
“Pizza?” Olivia replied. “I didn’t order any pizza.”
“What?” came the muffled voice.
“I said I didn’t order a pizza!” Olivia called back.
“1109 Wicker Lane, Apartment C, right?” said the voice.
“Yes!” shouted Olivia. “But I didn’t order – oh, never mind!” She was hungry, actually. Maybe it was pepperoni. She closed up her robe, raked her fingers through her disheveled blonde hair, smoothed it down, and opened the door.
The pizza delivery guy was a woman. “What…..?” stammered Olivia.
“Piping hot, right out of the oven!” sang Pizza Woman, who had forgotten to wear her pizza hat. She held up the box and rocked it back and forth under Olivia’s nose.
It did smell like pepperoni, but Olivia glared over the box and growled, “Pretty late for pizza delivery.”
Pizza Woman peered over Olivia’s shoulder, at the glow of candles softly washing over the living room walls. Olivia glanced back into the room. Noah wasn’t visible – he must have gone to the bathroom.
“Just take the pizza,” said Pizza Woman. “No charge.” She handed it over with a wide smile.
Olivia sighed. “Oh, for God’s sake, you can always just call,” she said. “You don’t have to buy a pizza to check up on me, Mom.”
(Word count: 300)