“Sorry, but we don’t deliver out there,” the woman on the other end said.
“Because,” she stammered. “The neighborhood.”
Our call crackled with silence.
I stared out the tattered screen mesh that shielded my doorway from the neighborhood. My eyes met an abandoned home, probably housing squatters, across the way. An old air conditioning unit oozed black goop and white spray paint adorned the sunbaked fence out front.
Why would anyone want to come here? Not even the neighborhood’s inhabitants wanted to be here.
“I see,” I said and ended the call.