Chapter 2: The Voice on the Phone
Before the guesses could pile up, I called the restaurant. A young employee apologized and offered to replace the entire order. Then I described the object.
The line went silent.
“Sir,” she finally said, “I need to get my manager.”
A minute later, a man came on the phone. His first word froze me.
“Thomas?”
I hadn’t heard my brother Michael’s voice in almost three years.
“What are you doing there?” I asked.
“Helping a friend manage the place for a few weeks.” He sounded nervous. “I saw your name and address on the order.”
I looked at the blackened object again. “You put this in the box?”
“Yes.”
Laura quietly moved the pizza away and folded her arms.
“Why would you send me a burned piece of junk?” I demanded.
Michael exhaled slowly. “Because I’ve tried writing to you a dozen times, and I never mailed the letters. When I saw your order, I thought maybe God was giving me one more chance.”
“A chance to do what?”
“Tell you what that object really is.”
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