Irene stopped working and sat down across the table from Tritia. “I haven’t seen him. But how could I not know what’s been happening to the mail? I’ve been getting letters from people I haven’t seen for years. Decades, even. People I thought were dead. I got a letter from Sue at the library that Sue never sent.”

Tritia nodded. “It’s been happening to everyone.”

“Well, no one’s talked to me about it. I called Howard up the other day to complain, but he seemed real distracted and didn’t seem to pay much attention to me. I went over to the post office that afternoon, but that new man was there, and he told me that Howard had gone home sick.” She shook her head. “I’ve never known Howard Crowell to be sick.”

“Neither have I,” Tritia said.

“The past few days, I’ve been getting get-well cards from people.” Irene smiled. “At first I thought the doctor was telling everyone else something he wasn’t telling me. But then I thought that this wasn’t a joke. Friends sent me cards as though they thought I’d suffered a heart attack. I called to let them know I was all right, and they said they hadn’t sent me anything.”

“I didn’t either.”

“I know.” Irene looked out the window. A hummingbird alighted for a moment on a honeysuckle branch next to the window, then zoomed off above the trees. “I’ve decided to just ignore it. Hopefully it will all go away.”

Tritia frowned. It wasn’t like Irene to simply “hope” that something would go away. She had never been the passive type. “Have you talked to Howard since then?”

Irene shook her head. “Have you?”

She hadn’t, but she was not sure why. It was obvious to her now that Howard had not sent that letter to her, but she had still been harboring some residual anger and had not been able to quite shake her duplicitous image of the postmaster. She would force herself to see Howard today, on the way home.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Irene said, standing up. “We have quite a bit to catch up on.”

This wasn’t like Irene either. Tritia looked into her friend’s face and saw in her expression a woman she didn’t know. A frightened woman. The warning light was now flashing, accompanied by a buzzer. “Have you told anyone?”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Irene said firmly.

Tritia drove around the block once, twice, then finally gathered up enough courage to pull into the post-office parking lot. She sat for a few moments in the car, then forced herself to get out and walk inside.