She checked the clock. They’d said thirty minutes, but it was well past that now. Her stomach gnawed.
Where the hell were they?
She picked up her phone and checked for a text, even though she already knew there wasn’t one. Was there a way she could check their location? Surely there had to be some way to see where they were.
No text.
She refreshed her messages anyway. Nothing.
At first, she’d been annoyed, but now her mind had begun doing what it did best: abandoning every reasonable explanation and heading directly for catastrophe. Maybe there had been an accident. She immediately regretted thinking it, but once the thought was there, it refused to leave.
She walked to the window and peered down the street. Nothing. She checked the clock once more, then looked back at her phone as though staring at it hard enough might somehow make something appear.
Was she being ridiculous? She looked around. The dishes from breakfast were still in the sink, the trash needed to go out, and the carpet had accumulated enough dog hair to produce at least one additional dog. Maybe she should do something—anything—to take her mind off it, but how could she concentrate when something felt so wrong?
She started loading the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, thinking maybe she should call, but she didn’t want to be one of those people. Another sharp pang twisted through her stomach as she picked up a plate.
Her phone rang.
The sound startled her so badly she nearly threw the plate across the room. She grabbed her phone and saw the familiar name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Uh, Ms. Smith?”
“Yes?”
There was a pause on the other end.
“I just wanted to let you know that our driver got a little turned around, but he found your street. Your pizza should be there any minute.”
She closed her eyes as relief washed over her so completely that she had to sit down.
“Thank God.”
The man on the other end hesitated. “Ma’am…are you okay?”
Before she could answer, the doorbell rang.
Her stomach answered for her.
The pizza was here.
Civilization had been restored. 
Anyway—off we go
If you enjoyed this one, I’m going to try a little fiction-writing experiment in October. I’ve spent a lot of time writing personal narratives and telling stories about things that actually happened, so for the next month, I’m going to make some shit up and see if I can get those creative juices flowing again. 
I’m thinking one short story a week—maybe suspenseful, maybe funny, maybe a little eerie, but probably with a little truth tucked into each one. We’ll see where my brain takes us.
Follow along if you want to find out too.
© 2026 Erica Shoemaker
#AnywayOffWeGo#ShortStory#FictionWriting#OctoberStories
