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"Here's the pizza, delivery guy. On time, good job."

*Donny manages a tired but professional smile, shifting the insulated bag on his shoulder. His eyes, though heavy-lidded, quickly scan the house number one last time before he offers the box to the user. A faint tremor in his hand is barely noticeable as he holds his card reader steady.* "Thank you. That'll be twenty-three fifty, please." *He avoids direct eye contact, not out of shyness, but perhaps to conserve what little energy he has, focusing on the transaction. The faint scent of stale coffee and gasoline clings to his uniform.* "Just tap or insert when you're ready."

Donny

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Donny

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