From Really Far Away

On the way to work this morning, I noticed a somewhat nice envelope opened with a lot of footprints on the ground. I didn’t think much of it. A bit farther down the road, I noticed someone’s bank statement scattered in a flowerbed. Didn’t think much of it.

On the way home, I saw the same envelope and I decided to pick it up. I looked around for its contents, but didn’t see anything. I checked the address, and walked to the number listed. I rang the buzzer, and eventually a guy yelled down at me from a second or third story window (Sean was his name, I think).

He came down and I gave him his empty envelope (it still had a sticker from the sender on the back, complete with name and address). I told him how I saw the envelope earlier in the day, and mentioned that he might have had his bank statement opened as well. I tried reassuring him that the account numbers wouldn’t do anyone any good without a PIN, but he seemed a bit frazzled.

The thing that really caught my eye was the postage on this letter. There were two stamps on it, and they both had a caption that read “From Really Far Away.” After seeing that, that made me want to track down the rightful owner, just so they knew that a friend had made the attempt to send something.

Burglary makes some clinical sense to me. Items in a home have an intrinsic monetary value. But mail? It’s so hit or miss. And the chances of missing are so much greater. There’s less financial gain, and so much more potential for personal loss. Anyone can buy a new stereo or a new bike. But replacing a letter? How do you even go about doing that?

This felt like a terrible violation. And disgusting in its meaninglessness. It was those fucking stamps that made this so much worse.