By Oliver Bennett • February 28, 2026 • Share
The young man on my porch had hair the color of bruised plums and blackened fingernails. In my mind, he was the collapse of the country. Turns out, I was the one who had fallen apart.
I hadn’t wanted the food delivery app. My daughter insisted after Alice passed. “One click, Dad. Hot meal.” So I clicked. Half an hour later, there he was with my dinner in hand.
He looked at me with eyes that seemed too old for his face, and I wondered if he saw through my attempts to hold it all together. Every wrinkle and gray hair felt like an accusation.
“Thank you,” I managed to say, handing him a tip, which he accepted with a nod and a faint smile.
As he walked away, I realized that he was simply doing his job while I was struggling to adapt to a world without Alice.
I closed the door and sat at the table, staring at the meal in front of me. It was still warm, but I found it hard to eat.
The house felt emptier than ever. Memories echoed through the halls, whispering her name.
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