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?”
“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.
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.