***
About five years into it, something changed.
I knocked as always, but that day, Arthur didn’t close the door.
“Are you coming in or not?” he called from inside.
I stepped in slowly.
The house was clean.
And the walls stopped me cold because they were covered with photos.
Kids at birthdays. School pictures. Holidays. Smiles frozen in time.
“Your family?” I asked.
Arthur stood by the window, looking out.
“Are you coming in or not?”
“I have three kids,” he muttered. “They stopped coming.”
That was all he gave me, but it told me enough.
***
After that, I understood Arthur a little better.
And I didn’t stop bringing the food.
If anything, I showed up more.
Seven years went by like that.
Neighbors called me crazy.
Maybe I was.
“They stopped coming.”
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