Postmark Smudges the Corner

The envelope rests against the coffee mug on the kitchen table. Its corner bears a stamp canceled with a postmark from three towns over. The ink has dried uneven, thicker on one side. When the letter is opened, the paper will unfold with a sound like a sigh. The address was written in the evening, under a lamp that flickered once. Now the words sit ready, having crossed the distance without hurry.