Meg? Is that you, Meg?

In one of my first food deliveries, I went to the wrong address.

I transposed the last two numbers in my cranium. It was also the first time I didn’t bring the phone with me to the door, preventing me from checking the details when things went south.

A guy came to the door. “Meg?”

“No.”

“You didn’t order food?”

“No!” he said and shut the door.

Some neighbors on a porch nearby watched with amusement.

“None of you are Meg, are you?”

“That’s two doors down,” one said helpfully, pointing.

“Ohhhh! Thanks!”

I went two doors down and knocked. No answer.

Back to car.

The phone rang.

The real Meg was waiting TEN doors down.

She said, “I called because I could see you on the app but you weren’t here!”

Oh, I was at the right place, I thought.

If you lived ten doors north of here.