The Last Letter in Ink

Four hundred years of rain on red post boxes. Denmark's PostNord just closed the final

chapter. My grandfather in uniform red, delivered love and loss,

then dropped dead. Now, I'm the last to feel the paper's weight.

A letter in my hand, arriving too late. I could email it instant,

one tap and it's gone. But the law still demands it before it's done.

They're scrapping the network, counting the cost, while I'm signing my future on

something we've lost. So I send the last letter. Hey. Special delivery.

Hey. To a world that's forgetting in front of me. Could've uploaded.