The Wrong Pizza Place
written by: Anna Kiddy
It’s late February, but the afternoon has forgotten that. It’s warm. The air is soft and tender. The light lingers higher than it has in months. I place a pizza order for later. In a few hours my friends will arrive to fill my house with laughter and noise, but for now everything feels suspended. The welcoming daylight is refreshing as it stretches across my quiet, small town.
I leave early to buy beer from the old grocery store, the one with the yellow, fluorescent lights that have been humming the same tune since it was built in the 80s. The signs all have that cursive, bold font that’s hardly used these days. The tiles are worn in familiar patterns. The shelves are stocked without much urgency. But the coolers are working because the beer sure is cold.
At the pizza place, I learn I’ve ordered from the wrong town shop, the one twenty-five minutes the other direction. For a moment it feels like a mistake. After all, it was an error, but it sure does feel like a good day for a drive. The windows are down with a constantly changing canvas of scenery that nature has painted for me against the crawling sunset. Sea shanties blast out of the speakers of the car I bought last July and the roads unwind like they had been waiting for me. I wonder if I have enough gas to make it there and back.
On the drive home, pizza in tow, and a fresh tank of gas, I glance towards the sprawling tree line. Every branch is thick with black birds, packed so densely that they look like leaves grown from the shadows of the dying sun. It’s must already be migration season. The birds are paused in their flight. For now, the trees wear constellations. In a few weeks, green will take their place.
By the time I pull into the driveway, the pizza is cold and the beer is warm. The day is perfect in that unearned, accidental way. The birds will move on. The leaves will arrive. My friends will knock on the door. During this borrowed stretch of February pretending to be spring, I close my eyes and wonder if this is the kind of moment my memory will keep in echoes.
- The Wrong Pizza Place - March 9, 2026
