He went to the

post office

twice a week to collect mail sent to the Non Profit he worked for. It was a small organization with a small budget, not enough for office space, barely enough to pay the wages of the team. Instead they listed their address as a

PO Box

, and the seven team members worked remotely.

Some of them worked from home, others in the public library, and one at a

coworking space

, He preferred the

library

, which was right by the post office. This along with the fact that he had his own car meant that he was the designated mail fetcher for the

Non Profit

.

One day he had been too busy to go to the post office at his usual time, which was right before lunch. He had to drop his coworker off back at her apartment. So instead he went around 5. It felt strange to be there at that time. The

sun

shining from a different angle. He opened the box, there was about four envelopes inside. Only one of them looked like it wasn't spam.

"Hey you. You didn't come at your usual time," a voice said from the other side.

"Mm. Sorry?"

"You usually come around noon. Well anyways I'm glad you came. I needed to tell you something. Your Box number 914. Do you know what happened to the owner of Box 915?"

He wasn't sure how he would know anything about that person. He didn't even know who it was. But he still apologized.

"Well you know 915 hasn't taken their mail in like five weeks now. I think they might be gone on vacation. Or dead. So that's why I was wondering. Might as well ask you, just in case. Maybe you ran into the guy or something while checking the mail. Whoops, I already said too much. Forget that I said guy. It's a person. Someone. Well I got to go, you have a good one."

What a strange experience he thought? Before leaving he looked at the PO box under his. 915.