The kitchen was ten feet away and held eggs, rice, and most of a rotisserie chicken his roommate had labelled in Sharpie. He was twenty-four, three weeks from payday. At 9:52 he paid $34.61 — burrito, service fee, delivery fee, tip — for food from a place four blocks away, then lay sideways on the couch to watch the little car.

The car sat at two stops away for nineteen minutes. He refreshed the map forty times and ate nothing, because eating now would waste it. The burrito arrived lukewarm at 10:31 and was gone in six minutes, standing at the sink. The waiting had been the good part, and he understood that while it was still happening.