The Postman

The familiar “plop” of the mail dropping on the mat made Sarah rush to the front door. Mixed in with the latest bills was a red envelope. She discarded the bills in favour of the plump scarlet packet. It smelt like it had been dipped in a gallon of aftershave. She drew the shimmery paper to her nose to inhale the sweet, familiar smell. She savoured the aromatic, woody fragrance, before carefully steaming open the well gummed encasement. Carefully she pulled out the pungent pink paper and opened it out flat, exposing an imperfect love heart in the centre. Her heart was racing as she read out the words, “Being with you is like walking on a very clear morning – definitely the sensation of belonging there.” Sarah folded the piece of paper up and placed it back in the envelope, before putting it in the draw with the rest.

“Anything in the post love?” Simon walked through from the lounge, a big smile on his face.

“Nothing for you to see, sweetheart.” She announced winking at him.

Happy with her answer Simon walked back into the lounge and carried on reading his paper. They were now twenty five years into their marriage and one year into retirement.


“So, who’s being a naughty girl then?” Rachel questioned her friend.

“Why, what do you mean?” Sarah jumped back, knowing full well what she was talking about.

“I hear you have an admirer.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m a one man woman, you know that.”

“So why are you getting love letters?” And there it was, the proof, the postman really does know your mail.

Photo by Kutan Ural on Unsplash


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