This wasn’t the first time he received this hand-written letter.
But it was the first time he decided to take action.
After calls to the local post-office to cut off mail delivery, he peacefully enjoyed the remaining days in town before his official moving date across the country.
Upon arriving at his new place with a single large suitcase in tow, he noticed a familiar brown envelope on the marble counter. No date. No address. Only his name scrawled in horrifically recognizable, elegant handwriting.
“Oh, I was asked to deliver that here.”
He turned to his agent who glanced at the envelope before taking out a smoke, unaware of his sudden, overwhelming panic underneath his calm countenance.
Yet, it wasn’t the same hateful words he read before. Rather it was a single sentence written in the middle of the thin sheet.
Getting rid of me won’t be that easy.
evening tea musings 