I
Number 1990 was his favourite. Its popularity never ceased to exist, so neither did the visits. He liked the visits.
Every morning at eight o’clock he would hear the familiar sound of a key, then the soft ruffle of a hand grabbing the papers from their tight position. Even though he always heard this from the other letterboxes throughout the hours, it was always this visit he looked forward to the most.
It was hers.
The first time he had seen her face was a few weeks after he started the job. Like every other day, he had started it off by accidently dropping the huge pile of organised letters onto the floor. His boss had blown up again at the sight of him scuffling through the letters on his hands and knees, and then left the office for the rest of the day. He knew why the boss was disappointed. He was disappointed, too.
He couldn’t help but let out a few helpless whimpers as he resumed trying to sort the paper packages.
It was hard for him, the words unrecognisable. Each letter had a new set of rules to follow. He wished he could work somewhere else: the car wash next door, maybe. But it was the only job he had, let alone the only job he could have.
As he placed the letters back onto the table top, he tried to avoid knocking over the pencils. As usual, no such luck. The pencils spread over the floor before he could stop them, rolling into several corners of the room.
He scrambled around picking them up, then started counting them. He was missing one.
He knew what his boss would do if he found out. He was afraid, too.
Out of fear, he slunk to the ground, grabbing his shirt and chewing on the collar.
It was only after he had calmed from crying that he heard one of the caches open up. He had raised his head to see a soft and delicate hand grab the contents, then disappear. He took no interest in any more details – as this kind of thing always happened, until he saw who it was.
She was beautiful.
He could only make out a few features of hers. Her soft mousy hair, her rounded cheeks. Her short button nose and those shining emerald orbs.
His breath had caught, and for a moment he forgot about the pencils. Forgot what his boss would think. He found it impossible to look away.
Suddenly, her eyes flashed up to his. He froze. He couldn’t comprehend why she would spend any of her time looking at him.
But she smiled as his heart fluttered.
And in that moment he knew that he loved her.
It must have been fate. For would she have noticed him then if he hadn’t dropped the pencils again?
