Mail

The man holds the envelope in his fingers and approaches the conundrum with an initially strong but inevitably failing confidence. One might think that is odd. After all, he’s been working in the information business for years. Letters are, were, and will always remain a frequent part of what he is and what he does.

The letter is scrawled hastily, as if something is more pressing, something that is happening soon. The typical handwriting of Stitches is ruined by this, and it is written with such haste, that he does not remember to address it properly. Nameless, it continues to whom he writes it for, without greeting.