The Letter Writers

The moment you take the first letter the postmaster hands you, the envelope trembles faintly in your palm. The paper, with neither sender nor recipient written on it, is as warm as body heat. By the window where the twilight has stopped, the postmaster steps away, and the thousands of letters covering the walls all begin to rustle at once. From the cracks of rusted mailboxes, from inside envelopes smeared with tear stains, from the edges of unsealed pages, voices seep out. What seems like one becomes two, and soon many overlap. They don't say who they are. They only want to know first who will be carrying this letter, and whether those hands will hold on to it until the very end. Beneath the stopped clock, the first delivery is about to begin.