She observed me for a moment, then eased up. Her eyes fell to my employee badge.
“Alright,” she murmured, “I appreciate it, Toby.”
I gave a nod and placed the food carton onto her lap. She flipped it open, shut her eyelids, and beamed as the heat drifted up toward her cheeks.
Observing her soak in the heat radiating from a simple pie struck me deeper than anything else that evening.
I remained standing there for another moment, feeling completely helpless.
Then I muttered a quick farewell and walked back outside.
I hopped into my vehicle and slammed the door. The food heater in the passenger area hummed quietly. On the opposite side of the road, a house light turned on. I ought to have shifted into drive and returned to the restaurant.
Rather, I merely remained parked with my fingers gripping the steering column, gazing at her unlit glass panes.
Zero illumination, zero warmth, zero groceries. Simply an elderly lady acting like she was “absolutely alright.”
I grabbed my mobile and messaged my boss.
