Pizza guy heals dead wife grief in 45 mins, avoids tipping

I deliver pizzas on the weekends. Last Saturday, I got an order for a small pepperoni to a house at the end of a dark cul-de-sac. An old man answered the door. He moved slow. "I didn't really want the pizza," he said, handing me the cash. "My wife died last month. We used to eat pizza on Saturdays. The house is just… too quiet." I looked at my delivery app. I had no other orders pending. "Well," I said. "I'm on my break. You mind if I have a slice with you?" His eyes widened. "You would?" I sat on his porch for 45 minutes. We ate the pizza. He told me about his wife, Martha. She loved gardening. She hated spicy food. When I stood up to leave, he grabbed my hand. "You're a good kid. You filled the silence." I didn't make much in tips that night. But I made a friend.