A Dark Night of Hate and Spite.

Prologue

I walked down my driveway in my slippers and a robe to check the mailbox. The flag was still down and so I could only stand and wait for the mailman to come. I lived on a long street full of elderly people and families with small children. It was nice, quiet at the best times which for someone like me was always. 

I pulled my robe tighter and waved at Bernice, an elderly woman who lived across the street, she came out to get her mail the same time I did every Friday. She was  probably in her late eighties though I never had asked. My mother taught me there were two questions you never ask a woman and one you never ask man. You never ask a woman's weight or age and you never ask a man about money. 

I smiled at her and she smiled as she always does. It was women like her that made me feel secure in who I was. She  had never married despite her families best efforts and to a 34 year old woman with no family and no love life, she was an inspiration. Living proof that living alone doesn't make you lonely. 

Now you may be wondering how I, Claire Benderson, a 34 year old working woman in a suburban family town, ended up so utterly alone. That is a long story about yet another working woman deciding she didn't need a man and not realizing the difference between needing a man and just wanting to build a life.

Suddenly the sound of a vehicle barreling down the road appeared and pulled me out of my head. It squealed to a stop in front of my house and the friendly face of George my mailman appeared.

"Goooooooodmorning!!" he bellowed. He stepped out of the vehicle and took my hand kissing the back of it. 

George wasn't the smallest man in the world but  he carried it well. His shoulders were broad and most of what made him large was admittedly muscles from carrying packages and filling mail trucks day in and day out. His eyes were his high point, I can guarantee it was the biggest reason why women seemed to be drawn to the man. George had a wonderful smile, his laugh was infectious, he was and is an undeniable flirt but he was creative and smooth with it. However the most beautiful thing about him was his eyes. They were a very average brown, you could run into twenty people with the same eye color on the street in under five minutes. What made them special was the sparkle he had in them, the brightness and joy that shone through them everyday. 

I laughed lightly, "Don't tell me that whole reason you're late was so you could do that."

We both laughed and he kissed my cheek, "Well I won't lie and say that it isn't an upside." He winked and we laughed as Bernice walked over, a smug look on her face. 

Her face was something everyone should hope for when they get old. Not because it was an exceptionally beautiful face, there was noting particularly special about how she looked. It was how her face had weathered that made it something exquisite. She had the biggest crows feet next to her eyes that seemed to scream about all the years of laughter and joy. She had a piercing in her nose that she still wore everyday, her eyelashes were naturally curled and had the darkest brown color. Bernice's smile was the cherry on the cake though, it was just so natural. Her teeth weren't the whitest and her lips weren't the fullest, but the way she smiled was just so real you couldn't help but smile back.  

"Now now George." Bernice giggled and patted his shoulder. "Where's our mail?" She smiled at him and he laughed handing the both of us lilac envelops with our names written in cursive. They smelled like roses and were sealed with wax. 

"I better hop, skip and jump myself to my next delivery." George kissed our foreheads and hopped into his truck and began to drive away.

"What do you suppose they are?" I ran my finger along the edges and looked at Bernice before starting to to open mine. She looked up and shrugged while tearing at hers. As we opened them i began to think. 

'Who on earth sends letters these days anyway?'