Joe Smith sizes up the pizza delivery guy through the peephole: manicured mustache, uniform too tight, possible U.S. Marshal. He slides twenty-five bucks through the mail slot.

“Keep the change.”

“Thanks. You gonna open the door?”

“Set the pie on the porch.”

“There’s ants.”

“A little extra protein won’t hurt.”

Hawkelson Rainier dabbles in prose and poetry. His novel, The Lake Erie Lights, is available online.