Messenger Goblin 2

But when I think of the postmark time, my heart is moved, and then I look at it, I just feel sorry for this little guy: "Hungry for so long, no problem?" At this time it has gradually gnawed a round cookie into a crescent shape, should be slowed down from the previous hunger, wiped the mouth: "okay, there have been times before when it was hungry longer than this." In the past, when technology was not developed, letters were transmitted very slowly, and a journey was often very long. So they are born with the ability to endure hunger, the least of which is the ability to sleep halfway. Well, no wonder when I asked it how the postcard was delayed so long and how it was delivered to my new apartment, it was the same attitude of asking three questions. "But the world was changing slowly even then." The little messenger sighed, "Even if the journey is a little longer, you can always get to the station." Probably this tortuous journey gave it a considerable psychological shadow, which I could understand, but I still couldn't help asking it what to do if a letter was delivered and lost in the middle of the journey. A trace of trepidation flashed across its pretty face: "If a letter has no one waiting for it, the messenger attached to it will disappear sooner or later." After saying that, it will be in the hands of a crescent moon like cookie remnants stuffed into the mouth, heart palpitating pat small chest: "I had thought I had to disappear this trip with those little friends before." I just laughed and handed it another cookie without saying a word. It may have mistaken my perfunctory attitude, some anxious: "If everyone stopped writing letters, we will not be able to find work for too long, and will not be able to live." It sounded as tough as the human workplace competition. I nodded empathetically, reminding myself to hurry up and push away the pot of noodles, turn on the laptop on my desk, and several work emails popped up immediately. This gave me inspiration: "While people are writing fewer letters by hand now, there's plenty of email, can't you guys evolve along with it?" The little messenger condescendingly stated that their clan would not abandon their traditions. I scare it while browsing emails, "Sooner or later, species that do not adapt to the environment will be eliminated by the times." But it asked in return, "Are all those eliminated necessarily bad?" I shrugged noncommittally. *** After that, I ignored it for a while because I was busy with some urgent work report. It wasn't until late at night that I closed my pen drive and stretched out. The little one has pulled a tissue over his body, lying on the desktop asleep. The little arm outside the tissue was still pressed against the postcard. I gently pulled the postcard away from him and picked it up to look at it again and again. Hey, things are so coincidental, the sender wanted to write to me to read the message really can not read a word, only the postcard on the front of the crumpled picture is still beautiful. The aurora borealis under the stars above a long ice field. It matched the postmark address. I forced myself to take my eyes off the postcard and move to the night sky outside the window. The city neon overshadowed the bright starry sky, and the warm light was lush and banal. I pressed my head on my arm against the desktop, feeling tired. Perhaps affected by my movements, the little messenger woke up and sat up rubbing his eyes: "What?" I looked at it: "It must be hard to be out there all the time." "It wasn't that bad this time." It actually denied it, smiling cheerfully, "It's rare to catch a first class flight."