Page 90 of Returned Mail

I want more too…

I want all of it.

—Mia

I seal the envelope before I can change my mind.

This time, I don’t wait. I walk straight downstairs and send it into the world even though I know the letter will sit there until tomorrow morning.

“There’s no going back from this.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mia

few weeks later

At first, I'm not worried.

The mail has been taking more time than usual. Especially from where he is right now. I don’t know where exactly he is, but I know he moved again.

George mentioned schedule changes in his last letter. Some new assignments that included different locations. Maybe he doesn't have access to mail right now. Maybe the letters are sitting in some warehouse waiting to be sorted.

Five days pass, but that’s completely normal. I shouldn't worry for five, six, even seven days. After the eighth day, I started checking the mailbox twice a day. Sometimes three. By day ten, my chest gets tighter every time I open that little metal door and find it empty.

Eleven days.

I reread his last letter. The one where he said, “If something ever stops me from writing… it won't be because I forgot you.”

A knot forms in my throat.

Twelve days.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

I try not to spiral, but I'm failing spectacularly. Every time the elevator dings, my body jolts. Every time mail hits metal downstairs, I freeze mid-step. Every time my phone buzzes with a camera alert, my heart jumps so violently it hurts.

Sixteen days.

My anxiety has its own pulse now. A separate heartbeat living just beneath my ribs.

Seventeen.

I'm barely sleeping. When I do, I dream of envelopes that dissolve in my hands before I can open them.

Eighteen.

I start drafting a letter I don't send.

George, are you okay? I'm scared. Please write me back.

The words look desperate on paper, because they are. I’m desperate.

Nineteen days.

Still nothing.