The hug was longer and warmer than any they had shared in years.
Through the window he could see the sleeve of his Pizelli Fine Meats uniform dangling over the edge of the trash can.
He slowly, gently pushed Rhonda back and quietly, almost too quietly said “there’s gonna be some angry phone calls.”
Mike “Skunk” Radditch held his wife by the shoulders as she shivered in confusion.
“They knew you were retiring. What, do they have a damn GPS on the uniform and they know you threw it in the rubbish? Why would there be-”
“There’s a guy on my route-”
“It’s not your route, anymore Michael. You are retired. It’s us time.”
Skunk chuckled.
“I promise it’s us time. But I want you to know what I did.”
Rhonda nodded, no need for words. OK, tell me.
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