Letter Beneath Stacks
Every morning, I slipped on my navy-blue postal uniform, adjusted my cap over my messy hair, and stepped out into the crisp morning air, already buzzing with the promise of another day. The weight of my satchel pressed against my hip as I navigated the familiar paths of our town. But it wasn’t just the routine of delivering letters and packages that Heartwood adored—no, it was the daily encounter with Liam, the muscular, tattooed postal worker who brought an unexpected jolt of excitement to my monotonous life.
Liam was the kind of guy who turned heads—his biceps straining against the sleeves of his uniform, his deep-set blue eyes sparkling with mischief. We’d only exchanged fleeting smiles until one sweltering July afternoon when I found myself utterly drenched after an unexpected summer downpour. I had taken cover under the awning of the small flower shop, waiting for the rain to pass.
“Need a ride?” came a voice that made my heart race, almost like the thrum of the rain against the pavement. I looked up to see Liam, draped in his rain-soaked blue uniform, his muscle-defined body silhouetted against the downpour. A grin, mischievous and genuine, spread across his face.
I hesitated, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and heat. “Uh, would you mind?” I sputtered, the rain partly to blame for my now-soaked appearance.
We hopped onto his motorcycle, my arms instinctively wrapping around him for warmth—though the warmth came more from the exhilaration of being so close to him than the cool air. The moment our bodies connected sent an electric charge through my veins; I could feel his strength beneath my fingertips, a reminder of just how fragile I felt.
Message Sending
As we zipped through the rain-slicked streets, I could barely hear him over the roar of the wind. But, above everything, I felt free—free from my mundane tasks and the quiet loneliness that often enveloped me when I returned home. We arrived at a small cafe, mainly empty due to the weather, yet alive with the scent of brewing coffee and freshly baked pastries.
Over steaming cups, we began to discover the layers beneath the surface. Liam spoke of his love for adventure, how he spent his weekends rock climbing and trying out new sports, while I shared my fondness for old movies and cozy evenings with a good book. Laughter spilled easily between us, as if we’d known each other for eons rather than just a day.
We continued to meet after that, almost becoming part of the mundane scenery—a pair of postal workers who often went beyond delivering letters. My heart swelled every time he walked through the door of the cafe, the little bell tinkling as he entered, my own personal sunshine breaking through the cloud of routine.
Then, one evening, as the day turned into dusk and the sky faded into hues of purple and pink, Liam laid a single hand over mine on the table, his rough fingers contrasting with my smooth skin. I looked up; his eyes, usually bright with humor, now held a deep seriousness.
Messsage Received
“I know this sounds crazy,” he started, his voice barely a whisper, “but I think there’s something real here. Between us.”
I couldn’t help the smile that broke across my face, a mirror of his unspoken feelings. “It’s not crazy at all,” I replied. “I feel it too.”
With the world outside fading into a blur, we sealed our bond with a kiss—a promise beneath the stacks of letters, where two unlikely souls found love amid envelopes and postmarks. The rest of the world may have been busy with deliveries, but in that moment, time stood still, preserving our newfound connection, a secret as sacred as the letters we delivered together.
