Sometimes when I used to deliver those lofty pizzas, I felt a little rumble in my own stomach, a dark wish to usurp the food for myself.
More often than not, that thought kept me bound, stuck with a choice to eat or deliver it to the one who has paid. It's so funny now that I reminisce, if only I never knew I had that choice, would I still have been paralyzed like that in the middle of nowhere, with an empty stomach, a parched voice, a broken scooter and a curfew to complete my job in time? Or could it be that choice was just an illusion of free will, and I, a mere pawn in the grand scheme of delivering pizzas to the people of extravagance?
"Thanks for the moment, I'll be on my way now." I put the glass on the chair and got up.
Calvin followed after me, "No, the pleasure is all mine."
"Adam is that you?" Ken's voice startled me.
I turned to see him holding Emily close to him. His right arm was broken, and his face was half bandaged.
