~The Messenger: The Letter~

I stared at the letter in my hand. What could be inside it?

I stood quietly and crossed the room walking past a waste basket. I easily tossed the letter into the trash and then I opened the door as a wave of sound overcame me and I merged into the throng of people outside. Lightning and thunder boomed over head as I rushed to get home before I was soaked.

The umbrella wasn’t helping me much since the rain was blowing at angle carried by the wind. However even the small prick of rain on me couldn’t divert my attention away from my thoughts.

So whatever was in the letter that’s now in the trash is what I had to do. Ha! Not anymore. I can’t do it if I never read it.

Or, I thought, I could just be going crazy. That last thought was a little weird.

And with that I opened the door to my apartment and walked inside.

My heart skipped a beat and I forgot to breathe for a moment as I stared at the letter on my kitchen counter.

I slowly crossed the room glancing into the bathroom and my bedroom for any sign of the intruder who had left the note in my apartment. I stared at it and noticed a small piece of a Post-It sticking out from underneath.

I pushed aside the note and picked up the Post-It.

Nice try, was scrawled across it in a man’s handwriting.

Was it the Boss? Or was it the Starbucks guy? Next time I see him I’m going to have to find out what his name is…

But that still didn’t help that fact that someone had gotten into my locked apartment and had found my Post-It notes and wrote out a message and brought the letter from the trash all the way here before I did!

Wow! Whoever it was they moved fast!

My gazed moved from the Post-It to the letter. I wasn’t going to read it, simple as that.

I threw my keys on the kitchen counter and went into my bedroom as always. I flipped on the TV and flopped onto my bed massaging my feet. The cell phone next to my bed began ringing.

Without bothering to look at the caller ID I answered.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Just read the letter.” The Starbucks guy said.

“How do you know my number?”

“Just read the letter.” He said again.

I didn’t say anything back. Not only because I was completely scared about the fact that he knew my cell phone, but because my heart had leaped when he called me.

And it wasn’t a scared leap. It was an I’m-so-glad-you-called leap.

That’s just wonderful. I thought.

“Well maybe I don’t want to read the letter.” I said.

Because that’s not childish, I thought.

“Just read it.” He replied exasperated.

“No,” I said. “I’m not going to read it.”

A knock on my door signaled that someone wanted me to answer it. “I’ve got to go.” I said and I hung up as the knocking continued.

Before I got up I flipped through my received calls. Damn! His call had been marked Private.

Like I couldn’t see that coming, I thought.

“I’m coming!” I cried as the knocking became more impatient.

I opened the door only to have it flung wide open and then shut before I could utter a syllable. Standing in front of me was the Starbucks guy.

“Just read the letter.” He said coolly crossing the room in a few powerful strides and holding out his hand with the letter in it.

I stared at the letter and then at his face. He had green eyes with a mixed color of blond for hair. It was too dark to really be considered blond but too light to be considered brown.

I watched as the muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched and my eyes flicked up to his. I noticed the annoyance in them.

“You don’t want to be here so why did you come back? Who cares if I don’t read the letter?” I asked defensively.

He sighed, “It’s not that I don’t want to be here its that you don’t want to listen. And my Boss is the one who cares whether or not you read the letter. So just do it and get it over with.”

He crossed the room and stood next to me. “Just read it.” He said quietly, “It’s not a bomb or anything.”

That thought had never even crossed my mind. How could I have ruled out the possibility of it not being a bomb?

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

He rolled his eyes, “Just read it. I’ll stand right here to prove that it’s not a bomb.”

“Yeah that’s exactly what a suicide bomber would say.” I said eyeing him but nonetheless taking the letter from his hand.

I gently pried open the envelope and took out the plain paper inside. It had the appearance of a business letter because it was folded three times, neatly. However, when I unfolded it, there was only one line written neatly in the center.

Sixth Avenue Local

What’s Sixth Avenue Local? I thought, is that the subway by Central Park? Surely they can’t make me go there! It’s really dangerous there!

I looked up to ask the Starbucks guy (who I still didn’t have a name for) what this meant and I noticed the door to my apartment standing slightly open.

He had left while I was reading the letter. I hadn’t even heard him make a sound.