running home with an empty pizza box

I am on a frigid morning run, nearing the end of my route, when I spot an abandoned Little Caesar’s pizza box about five feet into the road.

I’m not one of those people that likes to pick up trash around town because it makes them feel like they’re helping the earth, or other people, or anything like that.

But something in me wanted to help the earth, or other people. Because Who else would’ve had to pick up this pizza box? Who?

At first I slow down. I think about picking up the box, which is slightly out of character. Then I try to shrug it off and keep running. But I feel a pull. I turn my head to look at the orange pizza box again.

Well, I guess I’m running the rest of the way home with you, pizza box.