Emotions struggled for dominance in my brain. Shock. Pleasure. Worry. Love. Eventually I tossed them all to the side and kissed him back, throwing my arms around his neck as he did the same. I had kissed men before–stolen embraces in storerooms and closets, away from prying eyes. But this was different. This was James.

Of course, it was the same moment our colleague decided to return, the paper bag of sandwiches he held hitting the floor with a splat. I don’t know what I was expecting when he saw us together, but I guess you could say I was full of a foolish hope he wouldn’t care.

My boss called us both into his office the next day–separately. We were both let go. I had only a moment to lock glances with James as he was escorted out of the building. We both knew this was the end. It was too dangerous to try and find ways to be together now that we were caught. Our town was too small to let something like this go. It was the last time I saw him, offering me a sad smile as he walked away from me forever.

Our town was also too small for Carol to not find out. She threw a vase at my head as she screamed and ranted, telling me how I had ruined her. I was stupid to think she would’ve ever been okay with more.

My parents called me next, telling me not to bother coming home now that I couldn’t afford my apartment. I wasn’t their child anymore. They didn’t care to hear my explanation, or let me tell them how I felt, the emotions churning within me.

In the space of a few days, I had lost everything. My job, my future with the white picket fence and 1.5 perfect children. My family. My more. I couldn’t find work in my town, not with everyone talking about me, and knowing exactly why I was let go. I packed everything that would fit in my small suitcase, and jumped on the next bus leaving town. I didn’t care where it was going as long as it was away.

I stopped when I ran out of money, praying I was far enough away to make a new life. About the same time I found the only job that would hire me without a single reference or connection–the post office.

I found a sense of comfort in being a postman. It was oddly satisfying to be connected to people in a way they couldn’t fathom. I had control over the information they received or didn’t receive. I could do what I wanted with it. I always delivered it unscathed though, as tempting as it was to see what was hidden in the unassuming brown paper envelope, or written in the thin white letter sealed with a red lipsticked kiss.