I brought a pizza order to a senior

“I believe this should pay for it,” she stated. “I tallied it up twice.”

For a moment, I merely gazed at the pouch. After that, I looked back toward the cooking area, illuminated only by the open fridge.

There was practically zero food inside the cooler — merely some drinks and a tiny pharmacy sack.

That was the exact moment I understood the situation, and the reason everything felt so incorrect.

This meal was not a luxury.