No philosophy.
Just grief.
Then, eventually, he went to bed.
By the next afternoon, he had signed up with a local courier service.
QuickDrop Logistics.
The supervisor looked at his application.
“You were a senior maintenance engineer.”
“Yes.”
“For fifteen years.”
“Yes.”
“And you want to deliver packages?”
“I want to work.”
The supervisor shrugged.
“Car reliable?”
“Mostly.”
“Background clean?”
“Yes.”
“Start tomorrow.”
Ethan did.
The work paid less.
Much less.
It also required no identity crisis.
Package.
Address.
Deliver.
Next.
There was something almost soothing about it.
Ethan treated every route like a maintenance schedule.
He sorted by geography.
Tracked fuel use.
Adjusted order around rush hour.
By the third day, the dispatcher was assigning him overflow because he completed routes without errors.
One of the younger drivers asked how.
“Don’t rush.”
The driver laughed.
“That’s how you go faster?”
“Usually.”
Ethan’s former coworkers began texting.
Some were angry on his behalf.
Some wanted updates.
One message came from Miguel.
LINE FOUR BEARING WAS BAD. YOU WERE RIGHT. REPLACED IT. HOUSING TEMP DROPPED SIX DEGREES.
Ethan smiled.
GOOD.
Miguel immediately replied.
THAT’S ALL?
WHAT DO YOU WANT?
A TROPHY.
ASK MARCUS.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
No answer.
A few days later, Daniel called.
“Have you talked to a lawyer?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Deliveries.”
Silence.
“You’re delivering packages.”
“Yes.”
“You trained ninety people.”
“Ninety-three.”
“That makes this worse.”
“It makes rent easier.”
Daniel exhaled.
“I pulled copies of your old reviews.”
Ethan stopped loading boxes.
“Why?”
“Because Marcus changed things.”
“What things?”
“Not over the phone.”
“Daniel.”
“I’m serious.”
Ethan looked toward the loading dock.
“If you think something was falsified, send it to HR.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Then let them work.”
“You’re too calm.”
“I’m working.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Ethan shut the trunk.
“Anger is expensive, Daniel.”
“So is getting fired.”
“Exactly.”
The phrase became something Ethan repeated later.
Anger is a debt that eventually comes due with interest.
Sarah had taught him a version of it.
During her illness, there had been plenty to be angry about.
Insurance.
Delays.
Bad scans.
Good scans followed by worse ones.
Doctors who used careful language.
Friends who disappeared because sickness made them uncomfortable.
Sarah once told him:
“If we spend every day being angry that this is happening, then cancer gets those days too.”
Ethan never forgot it.
He was not naturally forgiving.
He was disciplined about where he spent himself.
A week after the firing, Ethan began taking a longer route home.
It passed Hail Dynamics.
He told himself it was faster.
It was not.
Sometimes he looked at the illuminated windows.
No bitterness.
Or not only bitterness.
Curiosity too.