Still… I always made one extra plate.
He left behind bills.
***
The first time I brought it to Arthur’s house, he barely opened the door.
“I didn’t ask for charity,” he grumbled.
“Good, because I didn’t ask if you wanted it.”
He took the plate anyway, and the following morning, it was empty.
That became our routine, but Arthur didn’t get nicer, not really.
“I didn’t ask for charity.
***
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.”
