Gemotions

He stared at the pizza delivery guy, a cold dread washing over him. The uniform. The address. It was his. The delivery guy gave a friendly smile and handed over the box. He took it, the cardboard rough against his trembling fingers. He’d ordered for her, under her name.

He retreated into his apartment, the pizza box feeling incredibly heavy. The smell of pepperoni, normally appealing, felt nauseating. He knew her favorite toppings, of course. They'd discussed it endlessly. He didn't know whether to eat, to hide, to scream.

He set the box on the kitchen counter, each bite a reminder of his own actions. The carefully constructed facade of their online friendship had shattered. Now, he was left with the messy reality of his behavior.