The Letters

It is December 19th. I am walking home from work. I am walking past the railings to the park near the flat. I glance down and there, wedged inside the railings are a bunch of letters. I pick them up, look around but there is no-one there. I look at the letters. There are, I count them, 30 of them. They are all stamped and addressed, sealed and ready to post.

Who has left them there? And why? If it is a postman then why not just throw them away?

What should I do?

Maybe it is a couple who have argued, maybe they are breaking up and she has gone down to post their joint xmas card list. But she decides to leave the letters in a place where her lover will find them, then she goes back and tells him that she is leaving and she has abandoned their letters in the railings to spite him.

Or maybe a kid who has been told to go and post the letters but is waylaid by his mates who have a cool playstation game. He decides to leave the letters behind until he has finished with the game and he will come back later to pick them up.

Or it is someone who has stolen a handbag with the letters in, they don’t want the bag once they have the purse, so they leave the bag containing the letters by the railings. A second person comes across the bag who takes a shine to it and they decide to steal the bag but leave the letters.

What should I do?

Is someone going to come back for the letters? If I post them will it be bad news that I am sending off. Maybe a last plea for help by someone to their friends who has decided not to go through with their suicide and leaves the letters as a reminder that they were so desperate. I should post them.

Or the couple who have decided to separate and then make up. They come back to find the letters have gone and feel it is an omen they should stay together. I should post them.

Or the poor kid who is going to come back and find his letters gone and he has to go home and explain what has happened or hope that none of his relatives bemoan the fact they didn’t get their Christmas cards. Maybe I should leave them here for him to find.

After much agony I decide to post them, with one last look around me I slip all 30, untouched, into the post-box. I feel good. Maybe I am a benign messenger, an agent of hope, goodwill.

But I don’t post them. I just stand there. Perhaps if I post them I am doing irreparable damage, or harm to someone I will never meet.

Bugger it. Its late and I am standing in a park with a bunch of letters in my hand. And they are not even mine. I decide to take them home and think about it a bit more.

That was 10 days ago. I know I put them down somewhere in the flat but I can’t remember where. Oh well.

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