He found her although he lives the other side of town, only comes every other day now. Not many people use him, preferring to pick it up when they shop.
The familiar sounds of his approach. A chink of glass bottles followed a hum of the float. A wet cough from decades of Capstans. He noticed what we didn’t. Monday’s milk still there on her well swept step.
Just doing his job he told us later at her hospital bed.
Elbow shoved the door to find her fallen; bruised and dehydrated still holding the note ‘No milk today.’