The doorbell was ringing and Charlie from the grocery store was at my door knocking again. The doorman must have let him up since he saw him every day. Charlie, Charlie. Go away, Charlie. Not today.

"Yoohoo, Mrs. George? It's Charlie from the grocery store. I got your order here. Your milk is going to spoil and my fawdah won't let me bring you another one. Mrs. George? I know you in there."

I was sprawled on my chair and didn't care about anything. I wanted him to just leave it and go but I realized I had to pay him. But I didn't want to deal with anyone today.

"Mrs. George? I'd leave it if it weren't for the milk. You could pay me tomorrow, but the milk, Mrs. George. Mrs. George?"

Its like he could read my mind. We saw each other every day, so maybe he knew me well enough. It creeped me out. I didn't know him, but he knew me. I didn't get how he knew me.

Begrudgingly, I got up from the armchair and made my way to the door. I could see him from the peeper hole. He was wearing his brown uniform like the UPS man. The things his father made him wear. Clothes. I checked myself to see if I was wearing anything. Yeah, I was wearing my Tiffany blue robe. I was okay.

I slid the chain lock and I saw him in the peeper hole sighing silently in relief. In a moment, the door was open a smidge and he was looking at me with a smile. "I got your groceries here, Mrs. George," he said formally and holding the two bags up. Fresh bread, milk, a bag of peanut M&M's, other things. It was always the same.

But things took a turn for a change for once when I realized I didn't have my wallet. My brain was so scattered this morning that I didn't have my wallet when I went to the door. What was wrong with me?

"Just a moment," I muttered, and closed the door. He had looked a little shocked by the change of pace. By habit, I slid the chain lock, too. No matter.

I looked around my apartment for my black purse, scattering newspapers and magazines as I went. My place wasn't untidy and these things weren't old, but as I moved more things as I searched, a strange feeling of panic started to creep up. And as I moved the People magazine on my counter island for the third time, the feeling overwhelmed me. I found my breathing to be quick, and I felt like my legs were going to buckle.

Unable to stop myself, I slammed into my refrigerator and fell down in a mangled heap. No pain. Nothing. My breath was deep and quick, and I couldn't control it no matter how much I tried. My hands clawed at the floor as I struggled for breath but I couldn't get it and I couldn't get anything.

Before I knew it, the door was slamming and I couldn't really figure out which door. What was going on? Where was I? Frankie? Was it Frankie? Was he coming to help me?

I felt strong male hands on my upper arms and he was shaking me.

"Mrs. George? Oh gawd, Mrs. George? Your eyes, good gawd your eyes. Where's your phone? You breathin'? Oh gawd."

My heart sank into a million stones at the bottom of the sea. It wasn't my Frankie.

"It was a panic attack. Let her have some rest and she'll be fine," the doctor was saying. I wasn't paying attention, just drinking my orange juice from the little cup.

"Yeah, okay, doctah. She ain't my relative or nuthin'. But she's my friend. You hear that, Mrs. George? Doc says he wants you to get some rest today," Charlie was telling me, but I didn't care.

Charlie rolled me out to the curb in a wheelchair, and I sighed. My black purse was tightly in my grip like someone would steal it. How did he find my purse so easily when I couldn't find it?

"Don't worry about payin' me or nuthin' for today, Mrs. George. I got it, I'll pay for your groceries today. Ain't nuthin' anyway. You just get some rest."

You just get some rest. Like he cared if I got some rest.

I nodded and he helped me into the cab. He followed me in. His father's store was around the corner from my apartment building, so I bet he figured he'd share a cab. I didn't mind. And as I tried to pay the cab fare, he waved my hand away and paid the driver himself. I felt relief.

I kind of felt bad for disliking him, but I couldn't help it and I didn't know why.

He saw me to my apartment building and when he offered to walk me up the stairs I declined. He gave me a little smile and waved. As I watched him walking down the street, he stopped and then looked around back to me. I stared at him neutrally.

"Oh shoot, your milk. Your milk was out all this time. You want I should bring you another one? I don't mind," he said, scratching his head nervously.

The milk. I didn't want to deal with him again, but I needed the milk. It was my medicine.

I gave him a small nod and he nodded, too. "Okay, Mrs. George. I'll be by this evening after my shift. Hope that's okay, but I can't get out no earlier. You have a good rest. I'll be back." He gave a little wave and turned his back again.

I stared at him until he turned the corner, then walked into my apartment building alone.