My doorbell rang just as I was about to place the plate in the oven. I set it down on the kitchen counter and hurried to open the front door.

"Good morning, Liz," came my neighbor’s sweet voice, accompanied by his usual warm smile.

"Hey, how are you?" I returned the smile, immediately noticing the box in his hands.

"I'm great, thank you. I was making pizza and thought of you, knowing how much you adore it," Josh said, opening the box to reveal hot, cheesy pizza. The smell was so heavenly, it completely slipped my mind to ask how he even knew my preferences.

"Oh, Josh, thank you so much. You didn’t have to," I said, taking the box from him.

“Nah, it’s nothing. Hope you enjoy it.”

With a wink, he turned and headed back to his apartment across the hall. The pizza was so good that I completely forgot about the pasta I’d been preparing. I didn’t even bother putting it in the oven. I was already full.

I probably ate too much. My stomach felt painfully bloated all night, and I tossed and turned in bed as if something inside me was being twisted and squeezed by an invisible hand. I swore to myself I’d never eat a whole pizza alone again.

The next morning, I decided to go see a doctor. But as I was leaving my apartment, I got a sudden head rush on the stairs. For a fleeting moment, I thought I was going to fall two stories down, but before I could tip forward, a warm hand grabbed me from behind and steadied me.

“Whoa, easy there, Liz. You okay?”

Josh’s concerned voice rang in my ears. If I hadn’t been so dizzy, I might’ve hugged him in gratitude.

“Yeah, sorry… I was just about to go down and—”

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked again. “Where are you headed? I can take you if you want. You shouldn’t be driving like this.”

I hesitated. Was it too much to ask him to drive me to the doctor? But I really wasn’t in any shape to argue.

As I approached his car, something about it made me pause. The type. The color. It looked exactly like the car that nearly ran me over last week.

“Liz?” Josh placed a hand on my upper back when he noticed me freeze instead of getting in. I looked up at him, my suspicions fading momentarily at the sight of his concerned, innocent face.

While he drove, I leaned my head against the window, clutching my stomach. The pain hadn’t subsided.

“You really should pay attention to what you eat,” he said gently.

I gave him a weak smile and nodded.

“You know,” he continued, his voice slightly shifting, “sometimes we think things are harmless. But once you start putting the puzzle pieces together… things start to make sense. Be more careful, Liz.”

I blinked. His tone. The way he said it. Was he still talking about food?

Or was I just paranoid?

I stared at the road ahead, disoriented and unsure. I couldn’t tell anymore if my neighbor was genuinely a kind person…

…or the devil incarnate.