Repose

[Beginning Friday morning, any postcards sent to pseudonyms are returned to sender. The post office has no recollection of who belongs to any of the pseudonyms, and inquiries indicate they never delivered any postcards to begin with. However, locks on the town journal seem to work with the pseudonyms, which is a fluke discovered by a post office worker and quickly spread around town like summer wildfires.

There is, of course, no sign of the writer who wrought any of this correspondence chaos, and everything returns to what counts as normal for Repose.]

['Bread']

Hey B. I never got to hear you write how awesome you are.

[Mulder/Scully]
Mulder, it is me. A serial killer did not get me or the postcards. The post office is trying to split us apart. Another government conspiracy.

[Misha B,]

Hey you. Sorry I've been a bit quiet for a spell. Things got busy. Good busy. How're you?

[Damian W,]

Hello Damian.

[Beau W,]

Hey you, tell me the good news.

['Sue' [As 'Blath']]

Hey stranger, how's your summer going?

[Dietre A]

Just thought I'd say hello and see how you were doing?

[Leena B,]

Been having a real good time with you, I have. Just wanted to say that.

[Public, locked away from Nishka]

I'm thinking today's a good day for swimming if anyone would like to come with?

I'm embarrassed to have missed the most obvious choice.

I taste a liquor never brewed –
From Tankards scooped in Pearl –
Not all the Frankfort Berries
Yield such an Alcohol!

Ruefully,
Tonic

[To 'Robbins', as Ronan X.]

I'm sorry to hear that you know what it's like to come out the other end of these things worse for wear. It's certainly a refreshing change to end up with a little more beauty in each sunny day. (And yes, I'll still take that polaroid.)

I think one of the hundred definitions of love might have to do with helping us forget the ways in which we're cracked and held together with tape. Your person, I hope she earns your love in that great and beautiful way. We can take that as confirmation that we're both still worth loving. And yes, my love told me I had beautiful eyes. Sometimes I wish I had more readily believed him while he was still with me.

You want to know why I'm angry, my dear Robbins? Well, that might take some time to answer while I figure it out for myself.

- Baskin

(Ps. I'll keep the dogs away, then. There's also a stray kitten I've been feeding, a tiny little scrap of a thing. Will you help me think of a name for her?)

[Lancelot]

I'll be there

- Guinevere

[Patrick G.]

Have fun?

[Nish B.]

Talk to anyone new?

[Public]

Where's the best place to go dancing here?

My darling Rhett,

There's a bakery in the Capital a few doors down from Vade Mecum. It looks about a hundred years old.

If you can get there tomorrow, ask for a collection for Rhett. There's an extra ten dollars on the order for a drink, too. Whatever you want. Tip the rest.

Have a weekend treat on me,

Love always,

Scarlett.


[the collection will be of a box containing an assortment of pastries. Probably too many for one person to eat before they're past their prime, but enough for a wide sample.]

Perhaps I could think of a better nickname for you if I knew your real name. Maybe I could learn to flatter, and you to be flattered. What say you?

Yours,

- Rose