Notes from the End of the World

A Letter

"You deliver letters too, I suppose," the bearded-man asked the Postman, after he has been two weeks on the road without seeing or talking to another person. And that was the first thing the man said to him. No greetings or any other attempt of sounding polite or friendly.

"No. I don't deliver letters," the Postman said.

"I've heard about you fellows. So arrogant and full of yourselves. Do you think you're better than me?"

"You know nothing about me. And I don't really think anything about you," the Postman replied.

"I have food. You're probably hungry, so let's cut a deal. I'll share what I have with you, and you deliver this letter for me. What do you say?"

The Postman rubbed his chin, staring at the bearded-man.

"Who's it for?"

"My wife."

"Where is she?"

"Nuremberg. A four night journey from here."

The Postman checked it on his map.

"And what do you have to eat?"

"Jerked beef, smoked ham, some cheese and bread."

"Gimme the letter," the Postman said. "What's her name?"

"Marien," the bearded-man said.

"Now gimme the food."

The bearded man opened a cloth bag and handed him some.

"That's not enough," the Postman said.

"I'll need it for my journey."

"And I'll need for mine."

After they broke apart, the Postman entered the woods and ate voraciously. For weeks eating wild berries and small rodents. He wasn't the best hunter ever, so he was only able to pick what fell in his traps.

He also took the letter from his bag and opened it up.

Beloved Marien,

As I've promised, I'll find us a safe place to live.

I know that I've been far from home for a long time. I've been everywhere around here, but it was pointless. I've seen others heading South, so that's where I'm going too.

Peter and Georg are dead. Please lie to their wives that they did not suffer.

Your old man you'll be able to keep you safe for a while.

I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

Miss you every single day of my life.

Gottlieb.

The Postman laughed loudly alone in the woods.

There is no safe place in this world, poor Gottlieb and Marien, and he tore down the paper into a dozen of pieces.

"I don't deliver letters. That's not what I do," he murmured, getting back to the empty, grim road.