Fear’s house is second on my Meals-on-Wheels route. She lives just two doors down from Hope. I wish they’d talk to each other — they have a lot more in common than they think — but Fear says Hope is a “stupid old bat,” and Hope is still pissed that Fear had an affair with her husband during the war. It’s a shame because I think they’re both lonely.

I have to knock real loud when I get to Fear’s place. She never leaves the door unlocked for me, even though she knows me pretty well by now. And her hearing is terrible, so I’m usually standing there pounding on the door for a few minutes before she lets me in.

We sit at her little kitchen table and she tells me stories. It’s hard to know which ones are true and which ones she’s just inventing… she can’t tell the difference anymore. They’re all sad stories, even the ones she thinks are happy.

She really likes to talk about her youth, how attractive she was back then. She’s shown me old photographs, and she’s right — it’s hard to take your eyes off her.