She explained that Alex had once delivered a package to her house.
Somehow, they had started talking.
Then she said something that caught me completely off guard.
“We’ve fallen in love.”
I stared at her.
“You’re joking.”
She laughed.
I thought she was teasing me.
Dorothy was eighty-three years old.
Alex, from what I could tell, looked barely twenty.
It seemed impossible.
But a few days later, I saw him leaving her house.
He was young, dressed plainly and carrying what looked like an inexpensive backpack.
He didn’t look threatening.
He didn’t look suspicious.
He simply looked like a young man who was working hard and probably barely making enough money to get by.
Still, something about the situation bothered me.
I couldn’t explain why.
Over the next two weeks, my concern grew.
Dorothy stopped sitting outside.
I didn’t see her taking her usual walks.
