The Letters
The queue is ten deep in the Post-Office. The nine people in front of me are clutching bin-bag packages corseted in gaffa tape. I may be some time. A man nudges me in the back. "Do they sell letters?" I'm flummoxed. "Sorry?" "Do they sell letters here?" "They don't sell letters..." The woman in front of me turns and says, "Aye love, just up here." She gestures towards the stationary. Envelopes. He means envelopes. Right. He goes off and gets one and stuffs his papers in it without paying. Fine. Not my problem. Just some petty theft. I'm sure Big Envelope is insured. "Shit." he says to his friend. He's taken the papers out of the envelope and is examining them. "Shit." "What is it?" says the friend. "I really needed to have posted this by today." But you're in the queue at the Post-Office, I think. It will be posted today. "Is the deadline today?" says the fr...
