There was a small, quiet town with a pizza place called Tony’s Pizzeria. It was owned by a family and was famous for its delicious pies and friendly service. People would come from miles away to buy things because the streets would smell like fresh baked bread and melted cheese.
The pizzeria had a guy named Mr. Benjamin Clark who was one of its most loyal customers.
Mr. Clark had ordered the same thing every day for ten years: a big pepperoni pizza with extra cheese and garlic bread.
The people who worked at Tony’s knew him well, but they had never met him. He always asked for delivery, paid for it online, and wanted the pizza to be brought to his door. When the delivery boys came, he never answered the door or even spoke to them.
It had become a habit, and no one questioned it.
Everything was fine until one night.
The orders from Mr. Clark always came in on time. Every night at precisely 7:00 PM, the pizzeria’s system would show the same message:
Order number 271: Deliver a large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese and a garlic crust. Don’t talk.
So often did it happen that the delivery boys joked that the world would probably end if Mr. Clark ever missed an order.
But no one ever thought about who he was or why he always ordered the same pizza.
Up until a cold October night.
That night, it was Ethan’s shift. Ethan was a young delivery boy who had worked at Tony’s for almost two years. He had already given it to Mr. Clark hundreds of times.
The same house he always went to was at the end of Willow Street. He drove up to it. As always, the windows were closed tight and the porch light was dim.
Like he did every night, Ethan put the pizza box on the door step, rang the bell, and then turned to leave.
He stopped, though.
For the first time in two years… The pizza wasn’t picked up right away by Mr. Clark.
The door would usually creak open a few seconds after Ethan left. It just… sat there tonight, though.
It’s been ten minutes.
Then twenty.
The pizza had not been touched yet.
When Ethan looked back at the house, he got a strange feeling in his chest.
When Ethan went back to the pizza place, he was still feeling uneasy.
He tried to sound relaxed when he said, “Hey, Tony.” “Has Mr. Clark ever… forgotten to take an order?”
As the owner, Tony, with gray hair, looked up from behind the bar, his bushy eyebrows knit together.
“Not once in ten years.” “Why?”
Ethan moved around on his feet.
“He didn’t get the pizza tonight.”
Tony’s eyes got darker.
“He wouldn’t do that.”
They looked at each other in a strange way.
Ethan said, “Maybe he’s sick.”
“Perhaps…” Tony made a noise. But Ethan thought he wasn’t sure because of the way his voice trailed off.
The pizza was still on the porch at midnight.
It kept going through Ethan’s mind.
It’s possible that Mr. Clark had been hurt.
What if he had been inside… hurt… or even worse?
By the next morning, Ethan had had enough.
He went back to the house and rang the doorbell.
Nothing.
He knocked again, but this time it was louder.
Still nothing.
As his heart beat fast, he turned the doorknob.
It was opened.
Ethan slowly opened the door and called out into the dark.
“Mr. Clark?” “Are you okay?”
It was very quiet in the house.
The air was thick with dust, and the small living room had a faint smell of mildew. There were stacks of old newspapers in the corners, and plastic sheets over the furniture made it look like it was stuck in the past.
The more Ethan went inside, the faster his heart beat.
He went into the living room and found Mr. Clark sitting in an armchair. He was still, pale, and cold.
He had clearly died days ago.
Ethan’s eyes hurt with tears.
How long had he been by himself like this?
How long had he been waiting in silence… without anyone noticing?
Then Ethan saw something that caught his eye.
A picture book was on the couch table next to Mr. Clark.
When he opened it with shaking hands, what he saw broke his heart.
There were picture after picture of Mr. Clark and his late wife Margaret, Margaret. Their smiles seemed to have been frozen in time.
There was a note written by hand in the very back of the record, tucked between the pages.
It said:
“Pizza with extra cheese and garlic crust is Margaret’s favorite dinner.” “Until I see her again, I’ll have one every night.”
Mr. Clark didn’t order pizza because he really liked it.
He had been buying it because it made him think of his late wife, whom he had lost ten years before.
He ordered her favorite food every night as if she were still there and shared it with him.
The pizza delivery boys didn’t know they were really taking memories with them instead of just pizza.
People in town heard Mr. Clark’s story all over.
People started leaving him cards and flowers on his door. A story was written about him in the neighborhood paper. People from different backgrounds came together to respect the man who had been grieving quietly for ten years.
But Ethan was the one who was most impacted.
Every week, he went to Mr. Clark’s grave and brought a fresh pepperoni pizza with extra cheese and garlic bread.
He would sit next to Mr. Clark’s grave and talk to him, as if he were still there, having one last meal with him.
People who are lonely are often the ones we don’t notice.
The whole town remembered Mr. Clark’s story and remembered to always check on their neighbors, ask how they are doing, and never take something as easy as a routine for granted.
Because the strangest stories might be hidden behind the most common habits.
If you’ve read this far, there may be someone in your life who constantly orders the same thing or sticks to a pattern and has been experiencing pain.
You could ask them today if they’re okay. You could make a difference in someone’s life.
