The Letter Had This Week’s Postmark

beside the trash.

I was quietly washing dishes when I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned around.

Maya stood in the doorway.

She wasn’t smiling anymore.

In her arms was the old lockbox.

The padlock had been broken clean off.

Deep scratches covered the lid, as though someone had forced it open.

My heartbeat immediately quickened.

“Maya…”

I dried my hands slowly.continue reading …