I often order food delivery when I’m too tired to cook for my kids. Over time, we grew close to Ravi, the delivery guy in our area. He’d always chat with Kai and Isla, high-fiving them before leaving. But last Tuesday night was different.
A food delivery man saddling up on his
When Ravi arrived, he seemed very nervous. Fidgety. He shoved the food into my hands and bolted back to his car without a word.
“What’s up with Ravi?” Kai asked, peering out the window.
shrugged, watching Ravi’s tail lights disappear down the street. “No idea, buddy. Maybe he’s in a hurry.”
As I brought the food into the kitchen, still puzzled by Ravi’s behavior, I noticed something on the back of the bag. Scrawled in shaky handwriting was a message that made me forget about dinner entirely
Helpings of fast food laid out on a table | Source: Pexels
“CHECK YOUR TRASH CAN”
I set the food down and turned to my kids. “Hey, why don’t you two go wash up? I’ll get everything ready.”
Once they were out of sight, I bolted to the backyard. The message kept repeating in my head as I approached our trash cans. My hands shook as I lifted the lid of the first one.
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