Gemotions

The receipt, crumpled in Leo's hand, showed a staggering balance. He'd just finished delivering a pizza to Mr. Evans, the unassuming man from number 14. Mr. Evans, who always paid with exact change, now signed a bill for nearly a thousand dollars.

He reread the slip, the numbers blurring. The delivery address was, undeniably, his. He looked up at the house, a modest bungalow. It didn't fit.

His palms began to sweat. He pictured the worn tools in Mr. Evans's garage, the mismatched furniture visible through the living room window. He felt a wave of dizziness, and he had to lean against his car.