text: "There you go, one large Pepperoni and one medium Carbonara! That'll be twenty dollars. Oh, and the Carbonara has the extra olives." "Perfect, thanks! That's her favorite", he winked while pulling out a couple of bills. The delivery man chuckled. "You can count on me, sir. Good evening!" He walked back to the living room, grabbing a knife on his way, put down the pizzas on the coffee table and plopped back down on his side of the couch. "Bon appétit!" he chimed, already trying to cut his pizza and look at the TV at the same time. For a moment, only chewing could be heard as the pizzas were being gobbled up. Daniel really was a great pizzaiolo, and these were a staple of their friday nights. Their dedicated "don't care" evenings, when they'd order pizzas, flop down on the couch and watch whatever movie she'd have picked. He wasn't much into movies himself and, in fact, she probably wasn't either. They'd already woken up more than once on this couch on saturday mornings, with no recalling of the film's ending whatsoever. But their unspoken point was pizza and snuggling, and they wouldn't have it any other way. "Oh dear," he let out as he glanced at her pizza box, where only a handful of olive pits and a grease stain remained. "You've already eaten all of this? I've barely made it to half of mine and I feel like I'm gonna explode!" He smiled. He might've been twice her weight, but it seemed like food would vanish around her before he had a chance to blink. She wasn't one to play princess, especially not on a friday night, and he loved her for it. He, on the other hand, had definitely overestimated his appetite this time. "Well, I'm full. Unless you want some more, I'm just gonna save it for tomorrow. Lemme throw the boxes away as well." He went to the kitchen, slid the remaining half of his pizza onto a plate and put it into the fridge. Turning around, he looked at the recycling bag, which to his dismay was already filled to the brim with empty pizza boxes. "Damn. Honey, I forgot to take out the trash, be right back!" He walked out of the flat, closing the door behind him, and began going down the stairwell. He wrestled with the door to the basement with his elbow, his hands occupied by the large bag and the two pizza boxes. After pressing the dusty light switch with his other elbow, he continued down the last flight of stairs, under the humming of the fluorescent tubes, to the trash bins room. The rattling of the olive pits inside the boxes went softer and softer as he slowed down and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. With a sigh, he shoved the recycling bag and the boxes into the nearest bin. Then he sat on the first step of the stairs, his head buried in his hands, and started weeping.