A Red-letter Day

Today. Just 24 hours to get through. What could go wrong? Answer. Everything!

It started well. Dawn came, noon came, but the letter didn’t. It was an important letter, a letter that would change everything. That’s strange these days when, to get a letter with an actual stamp, or at least in this case, with an actual machine frank on its upper right hand side, well that was something very strange. And it wouldn’t be one of those with windowed envelopes. No, this letter, if it came, when it came, would be protected by a brilliant white coat, flawless, pristine.

Another hour. Nothing. I went to the gate. Looked up and down the street. No postman… or woman. No post van of any description. A watched pot never boils.

Right. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to the shops. That will fool the gremlins. They’ll think I don’t care and will stop playing with my emotions. Off I go. I manage to distract myself for a little while. I shop. I gaze at windows. I amble by.

Right. Time to go home. I imagine what it’ll be like to open my front door and see that envelope lying innocently on the mat. I know my heart will miss a beat. It’ll be so exciting. Life will never be the same again. I almost skip up the path, humming a merry tune. I put the key in the lock, turn it slowly, savoring the feeling of anticipation. The door swings back and, yes, there is a letter. It has arrived. O joy! O no!

Instead of that beautiful white envelope, what I see brings a tear to my eye. Confetti. Little pieces of torn paper lie strewn around the hall. Two sets of eyes peer up at me, two little tails wag proudly, happy to have dealt a fatal blow to the daring intruder. The letter was no more.