Val's P.OV

The Domino’s was a jarring, wonderful shift in atmosphere. After the sleek, silent efficiency of Amazon Fresh, this was a temple of glorious noise and grease. The air was thick with the unmistakable, comforting scent of baking dough, tomato sauce, and pepperoni. The buzz of conversations, the shout of the kitchen staff, the tinny sound of a pop song playing from overhead speakers—it was a symphony of the ordinary, and it was perfect.

We’d commandeered a booth by the window, ...