“The situation has changed,” she said.
“Is someone in there with you right now?” I asked, my fingers tightening on my watch strap. “Did you have company today?”
Dorothy shifted her weight, her knuckles white on the edge of the door frame. “I do not require any groceries tonight. In fact, I have made other arrangements.”
“What kind of arrangements?” I asked. “Who is going to do your shopping?”
“You don’t need to visit anymore, I have Alex now,” she said.
The door clicked shut before I could ask who Alex was, and the deadbolt turned with a heavy, final thud.
I stood on the porch for a full minute, holding the warm pot roast while the cold air began to stiffen the plastic bag in my hand. Inside the house, I could hear the faint sound of floorboards creaking, but not from the hallway where Dorothy usually walked.
The movement was coming from the back of the house, near the basement stairs.
I carried the groceries back to my kitchen, setting them on the counter next to my own untouched plate. The pot roast cooled until a layer of pale fat formed over the gravy, but I did not put it away.
