She repeatedly closed her eyes and opened them again, hoping the last time had been a dream. Hoping this time she would see something different.
She glanced away to see her neighbour’s fifteen year old son, Gabe, can of some flavoured soda in hand. “Good evening.”
“So, uh, I can’t help but notice you’ve been staring at your mailbox for about an hour.”
“Do you know when we get our mail?” She rubbed the bridge of her nose.
He frowned, thinking about it. “Usually in the morning? Ten?”
“Then why is my mailbox empty?”
He leaned against the tree that stood so close to the edge of her property. Technically though, it was still on his parents’. “You didn’t get any mail?”
“No. Not possible.”
She continued to stare at her mailbox. He drank his pop. “Well, goodnight, Ms. Jone.”