I’m standing at the kitchen window with a cup of coffee in my hand, staring across the yard at Mrs. Jenkins’ porch.
Something doesn’t add up.
Yesterday, she told everyone she was leaving town for work for a few days. She even complained about the drive and joked that her garden would probably die while she was gone.
But this morning, there are two fresh grocery bags sitting right outside her front door.
Not just random groceries either. Fresh fruit. Vegetables. One of those expensive cartons of milk she always buys because she claims regular milk “tastes processed.”
And unless groceries can magically deliver themselves, somebody put them there recently.
It’s definitely not John Mercer. My roommate once bought sandwich bread and forgot literally everything else on the shopping list. There’s no universe where he suddenly develops an interest in avocados and organic strawberries.
Unless…
Pandora dropped them off.
But why would she?
Nobody mentioned helping Mrs. Jenkins while she was gone.
I take another sip of coffee and keep staring out the window like I’m conducting surveillance for the FBI instead of avoiding cleaning the kitchen.
Maybe I remembered wrong.
Maybe Mrs. Jenkins never said she was leaving town.
No… no, I definitely remember it. Karen was over last night when Mrs. Jenkins mentioned it. We were all sitting around the living room while Mr. Whiskers tried to steal chicken off Pandora’s plate.
So if Mrs. Jenkins really left town…who brought the groceries?