Saturday, 1 April 2017

Postman's Sac

The post arrived. He shuddered. He was such a skittish, timid man that the sight of the neighbour's mail amongst his own was cause for crippling consternation. He began to pace his kitchen and mutter, "it's appalling really. Really not my fault," whilst he wrung his hands and scrunched his cheeks into his eye sockets.

He'd long since begun throwing the neighbour's mail in the bin, after coming to terms with the fact he was now no longer a law abiding citizen. He'd fantasized about dropping it over of course, tipping his make believe hat at his neighbour and confidently chattering about the state of the weather. He'd then deposit the mail in the correct mailbox and they'd laugh about how useless Australia Post had become; how obsolete the whole concept of mail even was. "E-mail, that's the way of the future," he'd say.

Except it never happened. He once tried - he walked there, mail in hand, ready to put it in the box, when suddenly the neighbour walked out of her door, eyeballed him, and so in panic he had shoved the envelopes back into his pocket and taken up a nervous whistle as he hurried away. It was his darkest fear that he'd be caught sniffing around, like some kind of post stealing freak. He had a crippling fear that he'd be caught in those few vulnerable seconds as he held the post into the post box - the timing of which would make it unclear whether he was taking post out or putting post in. 

Nowadays, the mail just drops into the bin. Not even the recycling. The pain gets easier each time, though he still grimaces as he pushes another letter down into the bin liner, it mirrors the sadness and disappointment which he pushes down into the bulking sac inside himself.

Some day both will burst.

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