Penpal

by Chad Garcia

About a month ago I moved into a new house in a small suburb of California. Itwasnice, ratherupscaleforitsprice. Itevenhadapool.

Onedaywhen I wenttogetthemail, I foundastrangeletteraddressedtomyhouse. Itseemedplain, astandard 4” x 8” whiteletter. Oddly, though, therewasnoreturnaddress.

Walkinginside, I scrutinizeditthoroughly. When I openedit, apaperfrominsidefelloutgracefullyandlandedonthetable.

“Hello, whoareyou? Pleasewriteback.”

I laughed. Lookingatthescrawlingthatcouldhardlybedescribedaswriting, I assumeditwassomekidintheneighborhoodplayingapracticaljoke. I decided I wouldhumorhimorher. Takingthepaper, I wrotearesponseonthebackoftheletter.

“Hi, I’mJohn, andI’manadultwhoworksatthelocalSocialSecuritybureau. May I askyourname?”

I slippedtheletterbackintotheenvelopeandtuckeditawayintothemailboxagain.

Thenextday I heardthemailmanarrive. Walkingouttothebox, I foundtheusualbills, statementsandjunkmail. Butamongthemwasanothercrispwhiteletter.

When I openedit, therewasthesamepaper, neatlyfoldedintothirds.

“Hello, John. MynameisChris, andthisismystreet. I usedtohaveacat, and I likewriting. Howoldareyou? Pleasewriteback.”

I respondedasanyadultwouldtoaccommodateasmallchild.

“Hi, Chris. Whathappenedtoyourcat? I’mabout 33 yearsold. Could I askwhyyou’rewritingtome?”

Again, I threwtheletterbackintothebox, leavingtheredflagup.

Thenextday, I wenttofetchthemorningpaper. Butthistimetheredflagwasdown. I walkeduptotheboxandlookedinside. There, byitself, wasyetanotherwhiteenvelope. “It’stooearly!” I thoughttomyself. “Themailmanisn’tevenmakinghisroundsyet!”

“Hello, John. Mycatdiedinourswimmingpool. It’smademeverysad. I’mwritingtoyoutoaskwhyyouarelivinginmyhouse. Pleasewriteback.”

Insidethehouse, I quicklycomposedaresponse. Thekid’sprankwasbeginningtoweighonmynerves.

“Hi, Chris. Whatdoyoumeanyourhouse? Didyoulivehereatonetimeandmove?”

I placed the response letter in the box and began to walk away. That’s when I heard a loud metallic thud.

My blood went cold. Inside the mail box laid another white letter. I picked it up, opened it, and read its contents.

“Hello, John. No, I stilllivehere. Howlongwillyoubestaying? Pleasewriteback.”