Messenger Goblin 4

In fact, this reason could not be more common. The person I sent this postcard and I had broken up completely in a phone argument years ago, and had been cut off from contact all these years, and had long since ceased to be even friends. "I'm really sorry." My fingers grazed the surface of the postcard. "This return trip has been cancelled because of the long delay." The little guy's expression immediately switched from being owed money by me to being at odds with me. "How!?" It growled shrilly and gouged its cheeks with both hands, expressing its complete inability to accept such a reality, "It used to be obvious that it wouldn't expire for years!" "The world is changing fast now." I said softly, "No one has the patience to wait anymore." It stopped screaming and looked up at me, its little nose twitching. Like it was about to burst into tears. *** I didn't completely leave this helpless little messenger behind. After all, I myself used to viciously curse those always unreliable airlines and such. "We can try changing our tickets." I bought back a stack of blank postcards and looked very carefully through my address book to see if any of my friends could suddenly receive a handwritten letter from my apartment without being too abrupt. At first the little guy was a little tempted by my offer, but unfortunately another postcard arrived and changed his situation. That postcard was from another old friend, with a little messenger in a round hat attached to it, and an acquaintance of my little messenger in a pointy hat. Once the round hat messenger came, he greeted the pointy hat messenger with familiarity: "Hey, friend, how's your luxury return trip going? Everyone is very envious of it." The little messenger with the pointy hat looked embarrassed and first laughed bashfully and said that the return trip would start soon, then he changed the subject in a variety of rambling ways and winked at me eagerly, obviously not wanting to be exposed. So I pulled one out of the stack of blank postcards, quickly wrote a reply to that old friend, and sent the little round-hatted messenger away. The little pointy hat messenger then told me embarrassingly that because it was so rare to get a first class flight nowadays, and the round trip was a rare double, it had been "showing off" a little in its circle of friends. But now it seems to have made a bit of public knowledge, not easy to step down. The consequence of this unexpected situation is that it decisively refused my offer to send it away with another letter. After all, it's hard to go from luxury to frugality, and it's even worse when you fail to pretend. The inability to lift the return reservation left it stuck in my apartment. *** There were many arguments between me and it over the next many days. Just like with the guy who sent the postcard back then. As much as I loved it, there were always some wishes that I couldn't force myself to fulfill. That postcard that was somehow so late for so many years, even if it was returned to the same person, could not be first class anymore. *** The last time we argued, the little messenger was rolling all over the floor in anger. I was also embarrassed to the point of not understanding why it was so persistent, insisting that there was no substitute for whichever close friend or family member I proposed. "If you can understand how this is scheduled ......" it got up from the table, a small face held red, almost gritting its teeth in speaking, "... ...you'd know that this is something that can't be cancelled." It then showed an expression of epiphany. Before I could react, I saw it suddenly run towards the postcard, stand in the center of the card screen, and make a hug gesture towards me. I was a little confused by this image, and seeing how anxious it was, I could only try to put my finger over first and let it hug me. The moment it hugged my finger, the picture on the postcard expanded from its feet until it filled the whole apartment room. I saw the back of a man standing on the ice-covered rocks at the end of a cold continent for millions of miles, looking up at the glorious aurora borealis, eternally changing in star space. Full of beautiful scenery, but no time to raise the hands of the camera. Because, such a beautiful, only want to share with that one person, only. After a few seconds, the picture disappeared. The little letter writer, who at first was holding my fingertips, blinked and blinked before releasing his hand, became unusually excited and ran around on the desktop with his hands in complete forgetfulness: "So this is our mission!" Guarding the heart that the letter writer really wants to convey and handing it over to the recipient. I felt happy for it. Unfortunately, this time, it was too late. Even if I don't want to admit that I've actually been waiting all these years, I understand that the time has long since passed. Not only because the time has changed. More because, I don't want to be the one who can only wait in agony anymore. When the other person is full of wanting to share this wide world with me, all I want is for this person to come back to me and stay in this small apartment. *** I finally decided to reply to a postcard. Although not sure if the address was accurate, after all, the location of the other party is always fluid. But when the little messenger took that card, it was obviously very satisfied with the conditions of the cabin. The only thing it had doubts about, this postcard, was that there was no return booking. On the way downstairs it sat on the postcard and kept pestering me for a reason, which I didn't even answer. It wasn't until I arrived at the mailbox at the bottom of the apartment building that I smiled at it, "This time, you're free." And before it was put into the mailbox along with the postcard, it took off its little pointy hat to salute me and shouted, "You're free too." Yes, that's right. This time, I was free too.