I had a dream early this morning that I lived in some dark grey city in some dark grey apartment building with a row of dark grey mailboxes at the top of a narrow winding staircase. I opened my mailbox to find a stack of bills I couldn’t pay – not unlike non-dream life – and a postcard at the bottom.
I held the front of the postcard up to the window next to the mailboxes. They shared the same view. On the back was a note – messily scrawled, almost unreadable – and a piece of packing tape placed over a browned bit of flower petal.
A woman came into the post office today carrying a big bunch of white carnations. They were soaking wet and dripping all over the floor. She said she had picked them out of her bathtub. She put them on the table, sat down, reached into her purse and started eating them with a knife and fork. She was a messy eater, and she smacked her lips a lot.
From Rosie, your mailmanperson
P.S. Write your own stories.