Endless Deliveries

I’ve been a mailman for seven years. I know every street, every dog, every cranky neighbor.

Routine keeps you safe… or so I thought. It started on Monday. A mailbox was already open.

Inside… an envelope with my name. No stamp, no return address. “See you tomorrow,”

it said. I laughed it off. Probably a prank. By Wednesday, the envelopes were

following me. Sitting on porches I hadn’t delivered to yet. They described what

I had done that day. “You paused at number 12.” “You skipped the

corner by the oak tree.” Then Thursday afternoon… I saw it. A figure walking

behind me. Shadow. No face. Just… following. Yesterday,