Feb 8, 2012

Five-Letter Words Are Difficult

Along my route I have to deliver mail to a guy who is... Who is alive.
“Good morning, Mr. Beacham,” I say every morning.
“Uh,” he grunts, nodding. Never looks me in the eye.
“Here’s another postcard, Mr. Beacham,” I say.
His daughter sends him postcards. She’s alive, too.

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