envy+elope

media type="custom" key="2991050" Mary is an envelope. She sends herself away to men all the time. She gets licked, sealed, and placed in a cold mailbox every morning. She will go on living her life this way forever. Frank is a mailman. Everyday he collects mail, gives the mail and goes home. He knows a lot about mail; however he never gets any mail at all. Someday he thinks he will get a letter, and when he does he will lay it on his wardrobe forever. This letter will never collect dust because everyday he doesn’t get mail he will read this letter. Jack really loves getting mail. How fortunate he is to get mail everyday. Multiple letters, of course. If there was just a single letter in the box it would ruin his morning. Eventually Mary found herself in Jack’s mailbox for the first time. Jack seemed to have forgotten a letter today. He was very busy with the plethora of letters he received that day. That is why Mary stayed in his mailbox for the whole day and all through the night. Frank wished he could shatter his knees to impair himself as so that he couldn’t make it to Jack’s mailbox. He was envious, very envious of Jack and //all// those letters. As usual his knees wobbled over to the mailbox. He just could not afford the hospital bill and couldn’t imagine how it would impact his job. It’s just he really wanted a letter. Maybe someone else delivers my mail he thought, and they just forget to give it to me. There were a handful of similar excuses that supported him from day to day. Jack never notices the letter. Mary is in his mailbox for the //first// time. Frank is reluctant to find all the letters in his sling. All those letters for Jack cluttered all about the bag. Frank is actually very neat so it really took just a moment to handle it all. A sound of an envelope hitting the pavement. On the way up from the last meeting of his fingertip to the letter he slammed his head on Jack’s red mailbox. “Ouch.” said a voice. It wasn’t Frank. Mary sat shivering, it’s been lonely lately all she wanted was a warm home. Frank blinked and looked into the box. Mary saw that she had the mailman’s attention, “It’s quite lonely in here, and my offer to you is that you may join me”. The mailman felt his knees weaken, “Excuse me?” “Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me, you act as if I wanted to sit in here all night.” She shifted her weight to make room for the mailman. “I can’t fit.” “You’re a Debbie Downer is what you are, what makes you think you can’t fit?” she made more room, he switched his footing. “I am not a Debbie Downer, my name is Frank, and I cannot fit into a tiny mailbox.” “It’s actually quite large can’t you see?” Frank nodded; he actually knew this mailbox very well. “Have you heard of the young boy who drowned his cat just to see if it had nine lives?” her voice switched gears at this point, she wanted to get away from the initial question, but part of her wanted to pursue it. He looked at her once he heard this statement the fur on his head lifted at the brow. “You see you don’t know very much.” she heaved and retired the thought. Frank started to feel horrible about his attitude toward her. He reached his arm into Jack’s mailbox and withdrew the envelope like any person would do on their morning walk to the front of the driveway, coffee in hand. Quickly she was in his pocket, not his envelope bag; he certainly did not want this envelope to get acquainted with any others. It would hurt too much to see her go. Mary opened peeled open her eyes, bleary as they were she could make out so few things in the dim light. She must have been asleep, not knocked out. There was one lamp beside her, antique and beautiful. There was a fine layer of dust that blanketed the wood surface where she lay. It was not wiped clean, not even for her. This room smelt musty, and warm like an old women doused in the best tea in London. A soft record bore on, nothing at all she could relate to. She remembered Frank, “Tell me you don’t live with your grandmother.” “I don’t live with my grandmother.” Frank reached out and opened her up. His words alone had broken her tranquility. “Oh but yet you do, you do live with your grandmother.” She embraced his fingertips, and the oil prints they left as he folded her back up and placed her in the envelope. His smiled made her feel infinite, from then on she only wanted to feel this way again and again. He placed her on the dusty shelf and pulled a long white sock onto his left foot. “Don’t you forget about me today,” She glanced at the thick strap attached to the messenger bag not yet filled with envelopes. His mind got angry, but she must have just been being cheeky this whole time. “I could never forget about you.”