Lady of Letters

Checking the mail is one of my favorite things to do. I usually go to the box and turn my key, oh, I don't know, a few times per day. Usually, as you might imagine, I find nothing. But I suppose it's a bit of a tic, just something I feel a need to do, and it gives me some comfort. The neighbors have caught me a few times, seen me in the morning at my mailbox and again in the evening. They might say something like, "Expecting an important letter?" and at first they were earnest, but now they just tease. They think I'm eccentric, or a bit mental even. They probably think I have OCD or some other condition, but no. I just enjoy things that many seem to take for granted. And I allow myself these indulgences. They never get old for me. This is how you live.

The turn of the key, the snap of the lock, the pleasure of seeing an envelope. Crisp and white, or unexpectedly damaged, perhaps with a thick black streak of grime across it. Torn part way open accidentally, or maybe re-sealed with tape? An accident on the journey for me to imagine. A bill, a purchase, a coupon, an offer. A Christmas card. A mystery awaiting my attention.

Hobbling back up the creaky stairs to my one-bedroom apartment, I hear the jingle of the loud dog's collar one floor above, and rush through my door breathless before he has the chance to come down the stairs and jump on me, slobbering all over my skirt and shoes. His owner is an irresponsible woman, but she hasn't been here long, maybe a few months now, and I don't think she'll stay for long, maybe a year or two.

Panting a bit, I shut the door behind me and pause as I gaze about. It's August, so soon enough the plastic Christmas tree won't look silly to visitors anymore. Well, I don't have many visitors anyway. And what does it matter what they think? I love my tree. It's like a twinkling night light after I've sent the rest of the apartment into darkness, right before bed. All the colors beaming gently through the living room. Sometimes I'll sit in the cozy resting chair and just admire it.

There is that one spot, though. A dark patch where the green light went out. It's the only one that doesn't work, a break in the chain where the light just isn't where it's supposed to be. I guess people replace these tiny bulbs but to me it isn't really worth the trouble. It's such a slight bother.

A knock shocks me away from the door, and my heart races as I hear the dog bark on the other side. I turn around to open it a crack, and there she is, the new neighbor and her giant terror they call a German shepherd. She's given him about an inch of leash and he's thrashing around like he's going to tear her arm off. A puppy, she told me after she moved in. A huge one, apparently.

She smiles with those gross, yellow smoker's teeth of hers and extends her hand, which is clutching a white envelope. Seeing anything white makes her smile the more repugnant to me. She says my mail was accidentally delivered to her yesterday. I ask why she didn't give it to me then, and she looks surprised. I'm still protecting myself behind the door, which is only opened a little. She claims she needed to go to work and didn't get back until late. I mutter an acknowledgment, ultimately accepting her excuse as I reach out to take my letter. The damn dog lunges up at me and I yank my arm back inside without dropping the mail, slamming the door in its face.

Who could live with such a beast? This is a terrible day so far.

It's as if I had only shut my eyes for a moment, yet when I awaken on the recliner, I'm facing the deep darkness of night. It's not pitch black, what with my tree of lights, but my eyes are sore now, my neck too, and their lights are blurry, haloed.

You smell things before you taste them and in the air there is a hint of smoke. I walk down to the mailbox in my slippers. The hallway is quiet and I can hear that fluorescent buzzing, or maybe feel it, above my head. I find this sense disturbing, and hardly turn on the television because it has its own unfortunate crackle.

The taste of smoke now, perhaps sight of it. What is that diffusing this awful yellow light? It has a tinge of grey now, this isn't the normal way of things. I walk out of the building and look up at the neighbor's window as it glows, brighter than ever, and smoke pours out of the building. It takes a minute, I still feel half asleep. I stare, until I am awake enough for this to register, and am smiling. Absently, my fingers are stroking a letter, the same from this afternoon. I'd never set it down. I didn't check the mailbox, I think. Just stood there, slowly waking.

There are screams now and I turn my back on the building as I would any other night that I can't sleep. Walking into the forest that borders the parking lot, I carry that ashy taste in my mouth and know that the world is just. I will make it to tomorrow. Tonight I will pace the woods.