Pizza delivery.

She is wearing a black collared shirt with the logo of a pizza place on it, black sweatpants, cute white tennis shoes and a red windbreaker with the same logo on it. She stands about 5’4” or so and a hundred pounds at most. In her hand, she holds a receipt and little money pouch, and a warmer bag hangs on her arm. The smell of pepperoni fills the air. She smiles sweetly and says, “Hi, $32.90 please.”

“Oh, I didn’t. You have the wrong house.” Then again you did click the link, did that just order you a pizza? No, not enough time, you clicked it a minute ago at most.

She frowns, “Oh, I’m sorry, my gps took me here.” She rattles off your address and asks if it is where she is. It is, she shows you the order, it has your address but a different phone number. She calls the number and leaves a message. You can tell she is cold and a bit of rain starts falling. “Ok, well I guess I’ll just head back to the store. Um, unless you want to buy it? Hungry?”