Unfortunately the original prompt and post was deleted but I really liked this story, so still wanted to share it. Hope all are well and like the story too.

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He jolted at the knock at the door. Despite having heard it before, it still startled him. It never came at the same time. Some times it was early in the morning, others late at night. A few times it had happened at what he considered to be utterly random times. He tried to anticipate the knock, to see if there was a pattern. There was not one that he could tell.

That was a lie. He saw a pattern.

He walked to the door and opened it. The first few times he ran to the door, trying to see if he could see the one who knocked. He never did. It was the same as always: a plain black box made of some kind of strange material. He learned from experience that the box would disappear no matter where it sat in a few minutes. If the contents were not removed, they would disappear with it. If the contents were removed before it did however, they would stay there but never for long.

Not that the contents ever did last long. They would be devoured by him fairly swiftly.

The contents of the black boxes were always food. Food that was still hot, the perfect temperature to be devoured safely without harm. The first time he ate the food he expected to have something happen to him. He knew he should not have eaten food that randomly was sent to him. Food that he did not know where it came from or who sent it.

The food always came when he was hungriest however. When his reason always crumbled in the face of his reason.

That was the pattern. Whenever he was hungry, whenever his stomach ached because he had not eaten anything all day. When he knew he had no money to buy anything, when he knew there was no food in his small apartment, the box would come.

When he opened that first box, thinking his hunger was making him hallucinate, he saw a receipt sitting beside the cheeseburger and fries. "Backorder: Food when you need it, no matter what time you need it." It seemed ridiculous. He tried to not eat it. He almost threw it away several times. Finally he succumbed to his hunger and devoured it. For the first time in days he was able to eat something hot and substantial. For the first time in day he went to bed without clutching his stomach.

He tried to learn more about Backorder. No one had heard of it. He could find no information about it. In fact people thought he was making it up. They convinced him he had. That is, until a few days later he found another black box at his door. It held tacos in it that time. Chicken and beef, cheese and rice, guacamole and salsa.

He lasted a few moments longer before he ate those too.

This time the receipt had a message. "Backorder food is sent to you from another time. It is paid for in advance and no order is a mistake. Enjoy your meal. All food sent by Backorder is lovingly made and prepared and sustainable. The one who makes the order may send a message."

The receipts always disappeared with the box.

He wanted to question it. He wanted to refuse it. He worked hard. He did not waste his money on frivolous things. It was just many times food was one of those frivolous things. He had debts to pay. He was not well paid with to begin with, from any of his jobs. Yet he stuck with them, worked hard. Tried not to complain.

The fourth box had a message. He hungrily ate the grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup. "This is the first meal I really remember you making for me. I loved it the first time, even though it wasn't made the best. It tasted the best because you made it for me. You got better at it!"

He made it? He had never made grilled cheese or chicken noodle soup before. He never had anyone to make it for certainly. He was so confused. Yet he was too hungry to refuse the food. Now that he was full he had energy to think. His thoughts came up empty, no idea what this message meant.

"This was our first big meal together." A big bowl of spaghetti and meatballs with soup and garlic bread. "We were so happy to eat out at a nice place for the first time."

"This became a weekly tradition instead of a once in a while treat." A mushroom and sausage pizza fed him for days. "I can still remember when we did it twice in one month. I was so proud of you, so proud of us."

"Our first Thanksgiving where we made everything and we could have more than one thing." Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing. "You thought I would be sad because it was a small Cornish game hen. I thought it was the best looking meal you ever made."

A chicken pot pie steamed in front of him. Savory smells, deep and redolent of butter assaulted him. "This became our favorite thing to make together. Whenever I wasn't feeling well or was sad, you made this for me. Now I wanted to make this for you, especially this day."

He paused. The day had been especially tough. He had lost a needed job, a promotion was given to another. He lost a family member, the only one he cared for. He had something stolen from him. His eyes closed, tears he held back all day fell like rain from his lids. He found comfort in the smell of the pie. He felt more comfort in learning there was one that thought of him, some stranger that has been sending him unexplained but needed food.

He ate and ate, forgetting everything. He focused on the soft chewy chicken, the deep gravy, Sweet peas, carrot that was still firm to bite, flecks of thyme and rosemary that added a pleasantly acrid bite. The crust was hot but not enough to burn the tongue, flaky and buttery. He ate until the empty void within him was filled.

He found something on the tin the pie rested on, a piece of paper protected by plastic. The box and the previous message had disappeared but this somehow remained. With shaking fingers he peeled the plastic back and unfolded the paper.

"This might break the rules and prevent any more orders for a little bit, but I had to send this. I know you need it, needed all this food. I wanted to do this for you because you helped me. You will help me. I will never be hungry because of you. I will never be unloved because of you. You will take such good care of me because you wanted me to have a life that you wanted for yourself. You told me about the life you had before me, about how hungry you were. You said it was worth it, to be the man you wanted to be for me.

"You will take care of me. So I'll try to take care of you when I can. I love you so much and I can't wait to see you. Soon you will. Don't doubt yourself. You are amazing to me.

"Love, your daughter."

Ever since he got Backorders, he went to bed with a full stomach. Tonight he went to bed with a full heart. He went to bed with a full future, and a desire to be in it.