A Delivery with No Address

A Delivery with No Address A no-address delivery sends her across town, where Miles is waiting like he both caused the problem and regrets it. The answer did not come cleanly. Miles gave it in pieces, the way people confess when one truth is attached to three others. Leah listened with her arms folded, because if she let her hands relax she might reach for him, and that would make the conversation honest in a way neither of them was ready to survive. By the time the lights changed outside, the room felt smaller. a paper rose folded from a receipt Leah never gave him sat between them like evidence. Leah touched it once, and Miles tracked the movement with the kind of attention that made ordinary gestures feel dangerous. They argued without raising their voices. That made it worse. Every soft sentence sounded private. Every pause gave them room to imagine what would happen if one of them stopped being careful. The secret kept returning, no matter how far they moved around it: Miles is not stalking her; he is trying to warn her that someone is using her shop as a drop point. Leah wanted to hate him for hiding it. Wanting him at the same time felt unfair, inconvenient, and painfully alive. When Miles finally reached for her, he stopped before touching. The question was there in the space between his hand and her skin. Leah hated that he asked without words. She hated more that she answered by not moving away. Nothing about the night became simple after that. It became warmer, sharper, and harder to deny. By the end, Leah understood the difference between being tempted and being seen. One was easy to resist. The other had already found a way inside. Miles left first, but not before putting the choice back in her hands. The door clicked softly, and Leah realized she was still holding her breath.…